


Reckoning

by tigersgirl



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Romance, Sad Ending, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Soldiers, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-04-24 19:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 53,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigersgirl/pseuds/tigersgirl
Summary: Aurelia Matius was a child of both tragedy and duty. Raised in Kvatch and only child to the Captain of the Guard required her commitment to her responsibilities. But a single choice changes everything, and opens doors she cannot shut, even should she wish to. There are some things that cannot be undone. And the heart is a strange thing, even the heart of a dedicated soldier.All rights belong to Bethesda for Elder Scrolls characters. Original character Aurelia Matius belongs to me.





	1. Into the Fray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia Matius begins a journey that will mark her life forever.

**R E C K O N I N G**

I

_Turndas, 3E 423_

    The fog was thick where she stood, with a slight wind rustling her cowl. There was a stillness in the air that both inspired and frightened her. She took in a deep breath, hopeful that the stillness would enter her, quiet her. But it did not. Her heart still thundered in her chest, despite her best efforts. She had not prayed to the Divines for months, but perhaps it was time now for some form of piety.

    “Akatosh, lend me your might,” she murmured under her breath, as she walked toward the city of Kvatch. “ _Please_ ,” added quickly.

    As she approached the city walls she knew so well, she mustered her courage. The guards greeted her with knowing smiles.

    “Aurelia,” one of the guards said with a hearty grunt, “Settle something for Mathias and I, won’t you? He says he is the best bowman in this province, I told him otherwise.”

     Aurelia stopped and grinned, “Did you?”

    “I have some gold riding on it, if you’d like to settle the score.”

    Her grin widened and her brows lowered, “For a price, Faestaes.”

    The guard she called Faestaes rolled his eyes, “Yes, fine. I will cut you in.”

    “And the wager?” Mathias spoke up, “Faestaes here said you were the best bowman in the city,” he snuffed, “I told him I doubted that.”

    Aurelia crossed her arms, “I am no man,” she said flatly, “but the rest is correct.”

    “Well, I would like to see you defend that, against me.”

    “Excellent,” she said, genuinely interested in the challenge, “When are you relieved?”

    “Your father said nightfall, I am to be relieved by Menien.”

    “And you?” she asked Faestaes.

    "The same.”

    “Then come nightfall, we shall test your skill against mine. Knowing Faestaes, there will be something of an audience.”

    Faestaes gave a hearty laugh, “Indeed, m’lady. I intend to cash in on the wager with every guardsmen in Kvatch. I am a determined man.”

   “I know it. Sometimes I doubt you were not born under The Lady,” she snickered, “I will see you at nightfall.”

    Aurelia walked through the massive city gates as they opened, slowly, and once again laid her eyes on the familiar. She had been gone since Morndas-last and she missed the comforts of home. At the thought of her father, her breath shallowed again. He would not easily accept what she would propose. He would be disappointed. But it must be done. Though she was not more than twenty seasons, her skills were apparent to any who opposed her. Being the only child of a guard captain had provided her ample training in combat. While she favored the bow, she could wield dual daggers with ease thanks to the mentorship of her father. She walked through the training ground, littered with men and women glad in chainmail cuirasses, grabbling with their bows and steel swords in attempts to match their skills with their superiors one day. After she entered the barracks, greeted by the familiar faces of guardsmen who had known her since infancy, she sought out her father’s quarters and knocked on the door.

    “Come in,” a deep voice said and she did so. Savlian Matius sat at his desk, littered with maps, papers, tomes and other articles of that nature. He was bent over some parchment paper, his grey eyes focused as he wrote. Aurelia waited, patiently, as he finished and looked up.

   “Aurelia,” he smiled, “You’re home earlier than I expected.”

   “Yes, Father. I left immediately after the councilmen dismissed the captains.”

   “Good. It isn’t wise to linger in the Imperial City, if you have no business there,” he cautioned, and held out his hand. She placed a rolled parchment in his hand, with a frown, “You aren’t going to like what they said. He unrolled it and read, greedily. Savlian snarled and tossed the parchment into the fireplace, “Leave it to the council, sitting pretty in their stone-hewn chairs and fat stomachs to refuse us, they have no understanding of life beyond their walls.” Aurelia watched, her hands folded, as her father rubbed his tired eyes and sat back in his chair, the weight of his position laying heavy on his shoulders.

    “I cannot help but—” he looked up and she took in a deep breath, “—I cannot help but feel if you were there, rather than me, their decision might have been different. They would have granted us the extra guard from their ranks.”

    “That is simply not true, Aura. The council is not always wise in their decisions, when it comes to threats they can’t see and touch. Perhaps I am a foolish man to ask for such things, but I would rather be a foolish man prepared than otherwise."

    “They said there was no poof of a threat.”

    “In that, they are correct. There isn’t. I am an old man, I have seen more of life than most of them. There’s rumors of strangers on the roads, and feel in my gut that we would be wise to have more combat-ready soldiers in our midst.”

    “I see.”

    Savlian sighed, “I send you to these gatherings because you must learn. Chancellor Ocato knows this. He respects you.”

    “No. They don’t respect me, Father.”

   “Then you need to make them respect you,” he stood, and laid his hand on her shoulder, “Honor is earned, over time and with age. Respect is given and it does not require acts of greatness or wisdom. You teach others to respect you. Teach Ocato to respect you.”

    “I understand.”

    Savlian smiled and returned to his letter, “When you are old enough, my position will pass to you. Then you will have no choice but to understand.”

    “Father,” Aurelia said quietly, “I-I don’t want to live and die in Kvatch.”

    The grey-haired man stopped his quill, and peered up at her. She prayed that her countenance did not betray her wavering courage. She spoke again, stronger this time. “I do not want to be Captain of the Guard.”

    There was a long silence, and Savlian laid his quill to the side, “Then, daughter,” he said softly, but not without edge, “What do you want?” His response was not one that she was expecting, and she realized she had no real answer. She had known for some time that the life that had been planned for her was not what she wanted, what she felt she was meant to do. But it was a difficult thing to voice, it was merely a feeling. Feelings did not often hold truth, but this was more deeply rooted to her, not something she knew how to describe in words. So, she spoke what she knew to be true and that alone.

    “I don’t know,” she said, “I know what I do not want, that is all.”

    “I see,” her father said, softly, and sat back in his chair. He stroked the shadow of grey hair that rested on his face and eyed her, not betraying his thoughts. After a moment of silence, he broke it with a stern, “Why?”

    Her blue eyes met his grey, and she shook her head, “I do not believe it was what I was meant for,” she said, with a budding confidence. “What I was meant for is beyond the borders of this city. Somewhere, in Tamriel. I suppose I will know it when I see it.”

    “If that is the case,” Savlian said, “then I will need to make arrangements. I will consult with the Count in regards to who he feels may be fit to take up my post in the coming years.”

    “Truly?”

    “Yes,” Savlian said, a brief smile crossing his face, “You are my daughter, not merely my steward. I am not without understanding. However,” he walked to the fireplace, “if that is what you want, I will not have you linger here in the city, contributing little but your own daydreams. You will leave. Tomorrow. I will ensure that you are saddled and have the supplies you need.”

    “Tomorrow?”

    “Yes. If what you were meant for, as you say, is beyond our city than you need to go find it. And if that is your course of action, you must take it tod—”

    Aurelia suddenly embraced her father, and he melted in her arms. “Thank you,” she breathed.

    He smiled, warily, and wrapped his arms around his only child, “You will not inherit a lifetime of regret, not if I can help it. You became a woman a long time ago. You chose your path. Though,” he said, his voice growing gentle with concern, “I will miss you desperately and worry about you often. I may age ten years overnight from it.”

    “You could not look older than you already do,” Aurelia quipped.

    He chuckled, “No, perhaps not. Even in youth, I was not young. When your mother died, she took the years with her.”

    “Yes,” Aurelia said sadly, breaking the embrace and holding her father’s face in her hands, “But I will make her proud. I will make you both proud.”

    "Where will you go?” “The Imperial City to start, I suppose. I know it well and there may be some work for me there." Her father soured. “Don’t worry, I am always armed,” she reassured him.

    “See that you are. And be wary, trust no one.”

    “Is that a family creed?”

    “It might as well be.”

    She smiled and began to quit the room when she stopped, “What are you writing, Father?” she asked.

    “Brother Ralf has struck ill,” Savlian said, offhandedly, “They are searching for a replacement, someone to handle the comings and goings of the Chapel until he gets better, if he does get better.”

    “Is that not something that Brother Maynard is responsible for?”

    “They are, usually. But Brother Maynard requested I read over the request and make any additions that I felt were necessary. I often have the Count’s ear so I am more inclined to know what it is he would like to see in a new priest. Brother Maynard is a shy man, and though he is devout, he is not eloquent.”

    “Savlian Matius, Captain of the Guard and personal editor for the priesthood,” Aurelia smiled, “I’ll be off, then. I have a wager to win.”

    There was no response from the old man, save a raised brow and an amused smile as she left. But after so many years with her father, she knew in his heart would break at her departure.


	2. Destiny's Noose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In her cell, Aurelia encounters the Emperor... and he has a strange message for her.

II

_Day Unknown, 3E 433_

    Aurelia woke to a cascade of copper as she peered through her hair. There was a small window in her cell that allowed for the morning light. She held a dirty hand up to the stream and let it illuminate her fingers. The days and nights were so similar here, it was the only sign she had of the time passing. Suddenly, she heard the sound of guardsmen and she stiffened. A prison guard approached her cell with a bored look on his face and began to open the door.

    “You’re being moved,” he said, with a tired sigh.

    “What?”

    “I said you’re being moved, prisoner. Captain says this cell is to be used for storage.”

    “You jest.”

    “Watch your mouth, woman,” the guard spat.

    Aurelia stood to her feet, slowly. Each muscle had atrophied, she felt so weak. The guard clapped rusted shackles around her dirty wrists and dragged her down the stone corridor. She passed prisoners, so much like her and yet unlike her. They were murderers, traitors, thieves. She was guilty only of refusal. The guard brought her to a new cell, with no window and no light. Her body slumped in discouragement as she thought of a now darker future. Her shackles were removed and she was shoved into the corner and the cell locked behind her. The guard belched as he walked away, uncaring and unconcerned of the woman left behind. She walked over to the bars and inspected her new holdings. Across from her was a Dunmer man, around fifty seasons it seemed. But you could never tell in the prisons. They aged you. She was merely thirty seasons herself, but she imagined she would not look it when she left this place, if that day would ever come.

    She was interrupted in her thoughts by the Dunmer, as he spoke, “Oh, look, an Imperial in the Imperial Prison. I guess they don't play favorites, huh?” Aurelia said nothing. “Your own kinsmen think you're a piece of human trash. How sad. I bet the guards give you ‘special’ treatment before the end,” he cackled.

    That kind of ‘special treatment’ was why she was in here. She had been traveling through the Imperial City and stayed at Luther Broad’s Boarding House in the Elven District when she was propositioned. She refused, politely. But the gentlemen in question was not used to refusal, as it is with so many within the city. When she had quitted the city walls the next morning to cross Lake Rumare, she was seized by this man and two others. She was beaten, assaulted and humiliated. Her clothes and belongings were stolen and she was left naked by the shoreside, her very soul stripped of dignity. In those moments, she thought of her father and of the wisedom in the warnings she heard so often in her girlhood. A traveling priest of Dibella had found her, clothed her and treated her wounds as best he could. He set her a bedroll and a camp and stayed with her for two days. When she recovered, he left her and promised her his prayers. She knew he would truly pray. His kindness was the only gentleness she had known in so long. Though the gods were often silent, it was their hands and feet on Nirn that sustained her belief in their goodness.

    The man, who she later identified as Alart, the son of Jakben, Earl of Imbel, resided in the Talos Plaza District, as the wealthy often do. He had taken her bow and her daggers, articles that held personal importance to her. She was determined to get them back, and she did so. While the family was in town, she broken into their large estate and retrieved her belongings, but not at a price. She was discovered quitting the property and was targeted by the Imperial Legion immediately. Aurelia dropped the daggers and bow in an unused well, in perpetuation for her inevitable capture. She had explained herself, vervenhtly, but she was a stranger to the city and the Earl of Imbel was a man of heavy influence. Aurelia was disturbed in her thoughts, again, by the rambling of the Dunmer.

    "…going to die in here, Imperial! You're going to die! Imperial criminal scum like you give the Empire a bad name, you see. You're an embarrassment. Best if you just—”

    “If you wish your manhood to remain intact I would suggest you shut your mouth,” she snapped, her voice sharp and even.

    But he did not cease, “Hey, you hear that?” he said, excitable and shrill, “The guards are coming. For you!”

    The laughter that followed was devoid of mirth. Aurelia stiffened. There were guards coming, she could hear them. Her already tired limbs grew colder and stiff, and she uttered a silent prayer to silent gods.

    “Baurus, lock that door behind us!” a woman commanded.

    “Yessir.”

    Aurelia heard another voice, smooth and regal.

    “My sons… they’re dead, aren’t they?”

    “We don’t know that, sire. The messenger only said they were attacked.”

    The voices were getting closer.

    “No,” the regal voice said again, “They’re dead. I know it.”

    “My job right now is to get you to safety.”

    The speakers themselves now came into view, and Aurelia felt her breath catch. Guards clad in an armor she did not recognize stood before her, with the Emperor himself at their backs.

    “What’s this prisoner doing here?” the female guard snapped, “This cell is supposed to be off limits!”

    Aurelia got a closer look at them now. There were two men with her, an Imperial and a Redguard. They stood protectively around the Emperor.

    “Usual mixup with the watch, I—” the Imperial said.

    “Nevermind,” she snapped again, “Get that gate open. Stand back prisoner,” she commanded.

    Aurelia realized that it was her cell they were entering.

   “We won’t hesitate to kill you if you get in our way.”

    She did not doubt them and immediately stepped back to the farthest corner of her cell as they opened the gate and advanced.

    “Stay put, prisoner,” the Imperial warned as he passed her. The Emperor caught her eye and stopped, his aged face growing paler.

    “You…” he murmured, “I’ve seen you…” Her heartbeat quickened as images of her own execution played violently in her head. “Let me see your face,” he commanded.

    Her body rigid with fear, she walked forward into the light as was expected. The Emperor, with a kind and gentle hand looked at her dirty, gaunt face. Her fear seemed to dissipate in his touch. She knew very little of the Emperor himself, only his rule. Uriel Septim VII had always been hallowed a wise ruler. But he felt familiar to her now, as her father once did when he held her in his arms.

    “Then the stars were right,” he said, releasing her, “and this is the day. God’s give me strength,” he declared with some urgency. Aurelia reminded herself to take in air.

    “I don’t understand,” she breathed.

    The Emperor stepped closer to her, “Assassins attacked my sons, and I am next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route,” he said, gesturing to the soldiers in the cell, “By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell.” Her head was reeling, and she felt her legs may not hold her weight as he continued, “Perhaps the gods have placed you here so that we might meet. As for what you have done… it does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for.” Aurelia began to protest but the Emperor silenced her with a kind hand on her shoulder, “Take care,” he said with great concern, “There will be blood and death before the end.”

    The Blades had stood, dumbfounded but erect at this exchange. The woman then spoke, with urgency, “Please sire,” she begged, “We must keep moving.” She pressed on of the many stones into the wall and a panel began to move. As it slowly inched out of the way a tunnel could be seen. A breeze entered the cell and with it, the smell of death and decay and human waste. It must have been connected to the sewer line.

    “Better not close this one,” the Blade said as entered the foul pathway, “There’s no way to open it from the other side.”

    The Emperor followed her and left Aurelia in their wake, weak and confused and filled with an emotion she could not identify. The Redguard Blade gestured for her to follow, and she did, cautiously. She had not walked long distances in months and her legs cramped as she limped behind them. When they had imprisoned her, they took all her remaining belongings and her clothes and left her with a ragged tunic and some loose breeches, worn by prisoners before her. She had no shoes, no weapon, nothing to protect her from what lay beyond. But she was no longer afraid. There was a sense of direction in her steps, as if she had taken them before. As if this was her purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am working consistently on this story and will complete it shortly, there are currently 9 chapters written and finalized, adding new chapters each day to my work document. Will post every day or so here.


	3. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As destined by the Divines, Aurelia finds her purpose.

_III_

_Day Unknown, 3E 433_

     Underneath the prisons were catacombs, aged and ancient and unknown to the common man. Aurelia followed behind the blades, their torches burning bright in the dark, deep void of the stone halls that lay before her. After some time in tense silence, they approached an open room with thick stone pillars scattered throughout the space. Aurelia stepped forward, ahead of the Blades, and the Emperor held a stern hand in front of her, “There’s trouble ahead,” he murmured. Suddenly, the familiar sound of unsheathed steel rang through the empty hall and the Blades charged forward.

    “Close up left! Protect the Emperor!” the captain called.

    Aurelia count not see the threat at first. But instinctively, she stepped in front the Emperor. His life was more significant than hers by any respect. Suddenly, she could see a red flash, the kind only magicka could produce, and a high pitched cry of the assassin. The Blades collided with the attackers, striking them with their katanas. The Captain cried out as she plunged her sword into the bowels of one of the assassins, only to be hit herself by an attacker from behind. She cried out in agony, but continued to fight as she bled. Aurelia had no skill in healing spells, she could do nothing to help her, nothing to save her. The Emperor watched painfully as his trusted servant fought as she bled, the wound pouring red life. With the remaining assassins killed, he rushed to her side as she fell. “Renault,” he said, his deep voice laced with pain.

    “Sire,” she said, “Run—” the blood pooled in her throat and she choked, “Go.”

    The other Blades were casing the surrounding area, their eyes focused and their bodies tensed for another attack. Captain Renault, as she was called, breathed her last. Aurelia said nothing, but she could feel the Emperors regret pouring off him in waves. He stood, her blood on his hands, staining his royal robes.

    “I knew her since girlhood,” he muttered, almost to himself.

    The Redguard sheathed his sword and stood at his Emperor’s side, “Are you alright, sire?” he said, “We’re clear for now.”

    “Captain Renault,” the Emperor said, “Her body cannot stay here. She served me well.”

    “I’m sorry, sire. But we have to keep moving. We cannot linger.”

    The Emperor nodded and looked to Aurelia, “Take her sword, you need it.” She did not argue, he was not wrong. Under normal circumstances, she would not have taken the sword, it would have been buried with the captain. But she would see no burial. The sword would leave her side and find another master. She unbuckled the captain’s belt and fastened it around her waist, unsheathing the katana and feeling its weight in her hand. In another life, so long before this one, she would have admired its craftsmanship. But all should could see now was the blood stained hilt. She sheathed it. The Imperial Blade knelt at the Captain’s side and closed her eyes.

    “How could they be waiting for us here?” he roared, his fists clenched as his stood.

    “Don’t know,” the Redguard said, “But its too late to find out. Don’t worry, sire,” he directed at the Emperor, “We’ll get you out of here.”

    “They won’t the first to underestimate the Blades,” the Imperial spit, “I’ll take point. Let’s move. Now.”

    The remaining party followed through a stone archway, past a rusted gate, until the Redguard launched himself in front of Aurelia. “Woh,” he said, “You stay here, prisoner. Don’t try to follow us.”

    “What?” she snarled.

    The Emperor turned back, “No,” he commanded, “She can help us. She must help us.”

    The Redguard’s eyes widened, “Sire, she—” With a single wave of his aged hand, the old man silenced the Blades-man and approached Aurelia.

    “They cannot understand why I trust you,” he said softly, “They have not seen what I have seen. How can I explain,” he muttered to himself. Aurelia was about to respond when he silenced her with that same hand, “Listen. You know the Nine? How they guide our fates with an invisible hand?”

    “I question them often. I… have yet to abandon that faith entirely,” she said, guardedly.

    “I’ve served the Nine all my days,” Uriel sighed, “and I chart my course by the cycles of the Heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each one a fire and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder… which sign marked your birth?”

    “The Lady, sire.”

    The Emperor smiled, “I do not doubt that. The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.

   “What about me?” Aurelia asked.

    “Your stars are not mine. Today the Lady shall guide your steps on the road to destiny. In your face, I behold the sun’s companion. The dawn of Akatosh’s bright glory may banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied. I have lived well. My ghost shall rest easy. Men are but flesh and blood, they know their doom but not the hour. In this,” he sad softly and took her hands in his, “I am blessed to see the hour of my death, to see my apportioned fate then fall.”

   Aurelia looked at the aged face, which held so much wisdom. His words meant little to her as of yet, but she sense such finality in them. She looked at the Blades that wrestled with fate to save a doomed man and she felt a deep sadness. She knew they would fail, as the Emperor knew. It was not a knowledge she understood. It was merely there. The Emperor released her with his gaze then, and beckoned her follow them. The Imperial marched forward into another room, surrounded with slits in the stone that looked to be smaller passages. For some reason, it reminded her of the Chapel at home. It had been so long since she had walked through its doors, and she felt a sting of regret. Perhaps she would never see it again. Perhaps this would be the only chapel she knew before her death.

    “It’s a dead end,” the Redgaurd snapped as he looked about the room, “What’s your call, sir?” he asked the Imperial. Suddenly, the shrieks they had head earlier began again.

    “They’re behind us!” the Imperial cried, “Wait here, sire!”

    The Redguard grabbed Aurelia’s wrist, “Wait here with the Emperor, guard him with your life. I mean that.”

    “I will, I promise,” she said, “Go.”

    He ran down the corridor, katana bloodstained and at the ready. Aurelia unsheathed her own weapon and directed her focus on the Emperor’s safety, as she was instructed. Uriel Septim grabbed at her arm, and with some urgency spoke to her.

    “No,” he said, “I can go no further. You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings! Here—” he thrust the Amulet in her hands, “Take the Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion.”

    “I don’t understand,” Aurelia cried, “Why should—”

    The Emperor clutched at her shoulders, “Find him.”

    And as he spoke, an assassin sprung from the shadows of the tunnels around them and thrust his blade through the Emperor’s back. His eyes were wide as he looked at her, through her, and blood began to pool at the back of his throat.

    “No!” Aurelia screamed, and hacked at the attacker. He was a skilled swordsmen, but her rage fueled her stamina, and she overpowered him with ease. She thrust her blade on his head again and again until all that was left was a shapeless form of flesh, blood and bone. She dropped her sword and rushed to the Emperor’s side as the blood gurgled in his mouth and his eyes blinked rapidly. She held his head, unsure of what to do, of what to say.

    “M-Mar…” he said, his voice thick with blood, “Find…” Then, his eyes grew cold and his body still. The Blades rushed back, asking what had happened. What they found was a woman covered in blood, holding the head of their dead sovereign. She looked up, tears streaming down her dirtied, gaunt features, and the Amulet of Kings in her hands.

    “Jauffre,” she said through clenched teeth “I _must_ find Jauffre.”


	4. Perfected in Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kvatch burns, and Aurelia fights to save the only home she has ever known.

  IV  

_Day Unknown, 3E 433_

    The Redguard, Baurus as he was called, had told Aurelia of who Jauffre was and where to find him. Though he was the Grandmaster of the Blades, he lived quietly as a monk in Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol. It was not a path she knew well, but she would do as she was instructed. In her heart, Aurelia was a soldier. Duty, honor, these were things she understood. But there was more at stake here than a duty to her fallen sovereign. The gods demanded her obedience, and she would not fail them.

    She found her way through the remaining sewers, encountering skeevers as big as dogs along the way. The air was foul and dank and she longed for sunlight, her father’s smile, a warm bed. Anything, but the decaying, rotten under-forage of the city. Aurelia was still clad in nothing more than rags. She scolded herself for not retracing her steps and taking the captain’s armor. Respect for the dead was something she could not afford. 

    Her salvation was in the Imperial City, in the abandoned well that still held her gear. She hoped it would still hold her gear. Baurus had given her what little gold he had so that she might purchase supplied and some kind of armor, as was needed. She was grateful for his kindness and she promised to pray for him. Aurelia meant it. His guilt must have weighed heavy on his shoulders. The death of Uriel Septim was, in his mind, his own failure. But that was no so, and Aurelia knew it. The gods had destined it, of that she was sure as Uriel himself was. It was a strange thought, but it rang true for her. 

    Suddenly, she saw it.

    “Sunlight,” she breathed.

    She found her strength and ran as fast as she could toward the opening. The gate was rusted and difficult to open, but she pushed as hard and she could and it budged just enough for her now slim frame to slip through. Aurelia fell to her knees on the grass and dirt and could not help but sob. It did not strike her until the tears stopped where she was. The lake lapped against the shoreline and mudcrabs could be heard in the distance. She walked to the shore and washed the dirt and blood from her body. No more than a league away was where Alart had ripped away what trust she still had for others. Her fury gave her strength. She would return to the city, gather her belongings and whatever supplies she could, and travel to Weynon Priory to find Jauffre and deliver the Amulet of Kings. And when that was all over, she would return here. She would return and she would cut his throat in his own house. 

 

_________________________

 

    It required some skill to find her things without been seen. Miraculously, they were still where she had left them. _Thank the gods_ , she thought to herself.They would require some maintenance and repair, but they were intact. Her bow was a gift from her father, something he had fashioned himself from the trees of the surrounding forests of Kvatch. Their bark was darker than the other trees in Tamriel, almost black. It’s upper limb bore the sigil of her father’s house: a white tree. _Trees_ , he had said, _stay strong and unyielding in the face of all adversity. So must you, and so must our house._ Aurelia felt deep regret at the memory. She should not have left her father, so long ago. For a decade, she wandered, looking for her purpose. And for a decade she found nothing. Nothing, until the Emperor. 

    She placed her bow, arrows and pack on her back and fastened her belt around her waist. It was too loose now. With one of her daggers, she created another hole and fastened it tighter. Then she slipped the the duel daggers into their sheathes. With her weapons in place and with her face and body cleaned in the lake, she hoped she looked less like a beggar. She could not risk any trouble with the guard, not with the Amulet of Kings in her pocket. 

    The Market District was not busy, it was dusk now and most of the trading had been done in the morning. Aurelia purchased some basic supplies: a bedroll, some bread, cheese, and a leather flask for water. She then proceeded to an armory run by Maro Rufus. In the years before, when her father had sent her to the Imperial City in his stead, she often stopped by his shop and spoke with him. Maro was extremely knowledgable and often offered his counsel freely. She hoped he would remember her kindly. 

    The door was open and she stole inside. The familiarity of the place gave her comfort. Maro was indeed there, and the years had not been unkind to him. He looked very much the same man he had always been, if a little stooped in the shoulders.

    “I am sorry,” he began as she entered, “We’re closed for—” he stopped, his face pallid, “Aurelia?” he said, incredulously, “Is that you?” 

    She took a finger and laid it over her lips and he immediately understood. He crossed the distance between them in an instant and locked the door. He embraced her, as was his way, and she felt her lungs practically collapse.

    “Maro—” she coughed.

    “Sorry, sorry,” the man said, “I am just so surprised to see you. The last I heard you were being charged with—”

    “Burglary and murder,” she finished. 

    “Right. Uh, yes.”

    “I was convicted and imprisoned.”

    “By the gods.”

    “Maro, I need help,” Aurelia said, quietly, “I need to travel immediately, urgently.” She took out the near empty coin purse that Baurus had given her, “What can I get for this?”

    Maro stopped her and shook his head, “Whatever you need, you may have. Your father has always been a loyal customer and friend, I would not take your coin from you.”

    “Thank you,” she breathed.

    “Still prefer light armor?”

    “Of course,” she smirked. 

    Maro provided a light but sturdy chainmail cuirass, a black leather doublet and some breeches, as well as boots. It all fit well, suprisingly, and Aurelia was glad to be back in something more substantial. 

    “You are not strong enough to travel,” Maro said after she had fitted herself with the cuirass and breeches, “You need food and rest. Stay in the basement, I will wake you before dawn so you can travel without being seen. We have food here, and clean water.”

    Aurelia thanked him and gratefully accepted his hospitality. She was going to need as much strength as she could muster for the journey ahead.

 

_________________________

 

    She woke at dawn, thanked Maro and bid him farewell.

    “Here,” he said, and handed her a rolled up parchment, “You may need this. It’s a map of the provinces. It’s the most accurate of date, they say.”

    “Thank you, Maro,” she smiled, “Again.”

    “Be safe. Say hello to your father, next you see him.”

    “I will.”

    She left the city, quickly, and when she felt a comfortable distance from it, she opened the map and laid it on the ground. It would be roughly five days on the road to get to Weynon Priory. If she cut through the forest, she would shave at least a day and a half off her path. But it meant she would undoubtedly encounter bandits, skeevers, wolves, all the foes that Tamriel could offer. It didn’t matter. She was running out of time. They all were. 

 

_________________________

 

    Weynon Priory was modest. The living quarters were to the right of the upcoming path, with a small chapel to the left. A monk was leaving the chapel as Aurelia approached. 

    “Good morning,” he said brightly. 

    “Brother Jauffre,” Aurelia said, out of breath, “Where is he?”

    “He’s upstairs,” the monk said, questioningly, “What do you need?”

    Aurelia did not answer. She ran inside and up the stairs as fast as she could. There were several beds in the living quarters, and to the far side of the room she saw a elderly monk, sitting at a desk. _Jauffre_ , she thought. She approached him and leaned on the desk, in an attempt to catch her breath. She was still weak from months of inactivity, but she could feel her strength returning. 

    “Brother Jauffre,” she said, startlingly him.

    “Yes,” he eyed her, “I’m Brother Jauffre. What do you want?”

    “The Emperor sent me to find you.”

    “Emperor Uriel? Do… Do you know something about his death?”

    “Yes,” Aurelia nodded, “Yes, I was there when he died. He—”

    The monk stood, larger than size than she had initially anticipated, “You’d better explain yourself,” he snapped, “ _Now_.”

    She said nothing, but instead laid the Amulet of Kings on the table. 

    He stared at it, his breathing stopped, “You brought me the Amulet of Kings. This… cannot be. Let me see it.” He studied it in detail and his expression changed from shock to a deep reverence. “By the Nine,” he breathed, “This is the Amulet of Kings.”

    “I would not come bearing a lie.”

    “Who are you? How did you get this? What do you know of the Emperor’s death?”

    Aurelia began to explain, in as best detail as she could, what had transpired bewteen the Emperor and she, what he said and expected and believed. Jauffree listened in silence. When she finished, he looked at her and shook his head.

    “As unlikely as your story sounds,” he began slowly, “I believe you. Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me bearing the Amulet of Kings. The Emperor must have known of some unforeseen threat to us, from the demonic world of Oblivion. The Prince of Destruction—”

    “Mehrunes Dagon,” Aurelia nodded.

    Jaufffre paused, “Yes.” He looked at the Amulet, “The Amulet of Kings is ancient, Saint Alessia herself recovered it from the gods. The Emperor’s use it to light the Dragonfires at their coronation. With the emperor dead,” Jauffre rubbed his eyes, suddenly sounding tired, “and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple of the One will be dark for the first time in centuries.” 

    “The Emperor asked me to find his son,” Aurelia countered. 

    Jauffre looked at her, “Yes. I am one of the few that know of his existence. Many years ago I served as Captain of the Blades.” Jauffre stood and looked out the window, “One night, Uriel called me into his private chamber. A baby boy lay sleeping in a basket. He never told me anything else about the baby, but I knew it was his son. From time to time, he would ask how the child was. Now it seems this illegitimate son is heir to the Septim throne, if he yet lives.”

    Aurelia was silent, thoughtful. After a moment, she spoke, “The Emperor did not tell you who the child’s mother was?”

    Jauffre shook his head, “I had my suspicions. But I never took the liberty of asking. And he never took the liberty of telling me. We left it at that.”

    “I see. Where can I find him?”

    “His name is Martin. He serves Akatosh in the Chapel of Kvatch, south of—”

    “Yes, I know. My father is Captain of the Guard there.”

    “Then you must go at once. If the enemy is aware of his existence, he is in terrible danger. As is the city.”

    Aurelia’s fatigue faded as fear plagued her heart, “I need supplies.”

    Jauffre rushed to his feet, “Yes, here. Take anything you need. I have some skill in alchemy so there should be some medicenal potions in there for you, you will need all the strength you can muster. Take anything you need.”

    She obeyed, opening the chest and packing as many potions as she could in her pack. There were arrows as well, and she filled her quiver. “Do you have a horse?” she said.

    “Yes. She’s an old paint horse, but she will get you to Kvatch faster than on foot.”

    “Thank you, Brother Jauffre,” Aurelia called as she ran. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She found the stables, and the horse. She approached it, cautiously, made herself familiar as quickly as she could, and then straddled it. 

    “Come on then, girl,” she said as she kicked its side, “Come on.”

_Father_ , she thought as she rode. _Please, gods. Please. Let him be alive_.

_________________________

 

    Aurelia knew the fastest way to the city, it was a path she had carved out for herself many times as a child when she would go hunting. She began to recognize the changing in the trees, the bark darkening to a color she knew well. But, something was not right. The sky was not right. As she got closer, she looked on in horror.

    “Gods, no,” she breathed.

    Dark, grey clouds were thick overhead, and the familiar blue had been replaced with a demonic red, cracking like embers and flame. She kicked the horse again, urging her on down the road. She could see what appeared to be campsites up ahead. A man, who looked to be a High Elf, was running toward her, his eyes wild and his clothes torn.

    “Run!” he screamed, “Run!”

    Aurelia slowed her horse, “What has happened?” she said. The man did not answer her, instead he screamed over and over again, _Run, run, run._ As he passed her, Aurelia lept from her horse and grabbed him by the shoulders, “Speak, Altmer!” she commanded. 

    “Run while there’s still time,” he begged, tears in his eyes, “The Guard still holds the road but its only a matter of time before they’re overwhlemed! Daedra overran the city, glowing portals to Oblivion itself!” his eyes were wild and Aurelia shook him.

    “Captain Matius!” she said, “Is he alive? Where is he?”

    “I-I don’t know, I don’t know. Th-there was a huge creature, something… something out of a nightmare. Blasting fire. They swarmed around it… killing… killing everything. We’re all that’s left, do you understand? They’re all dead. _They’re all dead_.”

    “ _Where is Captain Matius_?” Aurelia screamed.

    “He said they’d hold the road, but I don’t believe him. _Nothing can stop them_!”

   Aurelia dropped the Altmer and leapt back on her horse, riding as fast as she could toward the ruin of Kvatch, toward the ruin of her home. The Altmer called at her, begging her not to go, begging her to run. But she rode on, fear threatening to paralyze her. 

    As she approached the city, she saw the Gate and she could not breathe. It was massive, as tall as the city walls and fearsome. Scamps and daedra were pouring out of its mouth. The soldiers of Kvatch were fighting, wearily, but were clearly outnumbered. They had built a crude barricade but that was the only shelter she could see. Then, she saw her father. 

    “ _Father_!” she screamed. Her horse, afraid of the flame and the demonic, reared on its hind legs and knocked her off. She fell to the floor and rolled, her daggers and the Blade captain’s katana crushing against her. She caught her breath and staggered to a standing position and ran, screaming for her father. He turned, his eyes wide.

    “Aurelia?” he said, in utter disbelief,“ _Aurelia!"_

    She ran towards him as fast as her fatigued body could carry her and embraced him, but he was clearly in shock and stood as still as stone.

    “This is no place for you, get back to the encampment at once,” he commanded and she shook her head.

    “ _No_ , Father. I need to get into Kvatch.” 

    “We’ve lost the damned city, Aurelia,” he snarled, “There _is no_ Kvatch. It… It was too much, too fast, couldn’t even get everyone out. There are still people trapped in there!”

    “Martin,” Aurelia said, “Where is Martin?”

    “What?” Savlian said, “You mean the priest? I-I don’t know. Last I saw him, he was leading civilians to the Chapel of Akatosh.”

    “I _need_ to get to him.”

    “No, you don’t. Not with that Gate in the way. There is no way back into the city. You are going down to the encampment where its safe.”

    “Father, _no_ ,” Aurelia said through gritted teeth, “ _I need to get to Martin, now_.”

    “Victor!” the Captain commanded, and a guard ran toward them, “Take my daughter down to the encampment now!”

    “Father, no,” Aurelia grabbed his arm, “You don’t understand! _I have to get to Martin! I have to get to him_!” The guard grabbed her by her waist and began dragging her downward toward the encampment. “ _Let me go_!” she creamed, “Listen, please! I-I have to—”

    “Shut up, girl!” he said, “I have my orders!”

    Aurelia took her free arm and elbowed the guard as hard as she could in his neck, causing him to fall sideways and release her. She fell to the floor, picked herself up and sprinted with her daggers drawn past the barricade. Her father saw her and called out to her. 

_I’m sorry, Father..._

    She ran straight for the Gate and charged inside, his screams heard behind her.


	5. The Hero of Kvatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great Gate must be closed... can she do it?

V

    Aurelia had seen many things in her travels, but never a Daedric realm. They were a reflection of the Princes that created them. It was clear who Mehrunes Dagon was from his plane of Oblivon. They were called the Deadlands, and they were aptly named. It was a large, open land filled with death and decay and ash. All life was banished from its horizon. There were lakes, but they were not filled with water. They were enormous pools of molten rock and fire and corpses. The very she was breathing felt as if it was a poisonous fume. Almost immediately upon her arrival, she saw a massive bridge with what looked to be an iron gate. She feared what was behind it.

    A soldier, wearing the Kvatch cuirass, was fighting scamps not a league away from her ad she rushed to his aid. With her daggers, Aurelia cut down an attacking stunted scamp, its blood staining the blades. Two more were behind her, and she plunged a dagger each in their necks. The soldier saw her, hope kindled in his features, and ran to her side. 

    “Thank the Nine,” he cried, “I never thought I would see another friendly face!” 

    “Where are the other soldiers?”

    “The others… they were taken… taken to the tower! Captain Matius sent us in to close the Gate. We were ambushed, trapped, and picked off! I managed to escape, but the others are strewn across that bridge,” he grabbed her by the shoulders, “Menien! They… they took Menien off to the big tower, you’ve got to save him!”

    Aurelia saw that the man was fostering a deep gash to his left arm. He would be of little use to her.

    “Go, then,” she directed, “Go back to the city. Tell the Captain I will find Menien. I will close the Gate.” The soldier began to leave her, “Wait!” she cried. “If I do not return, find Brother Martin, the priest. Find him. Tell him—” she did not know who she could trust, but she had to be wise, “Tell him Brother Jauffre has a message.”

   The soldier looked confused, but nodded. Aurelia knew there was a chance he himself would not last the night, if the wound was infected or inflicted by a weapon with daedric magic. She put these thoughts from her mind. The Gate must be closed. She thought of saying a prayer to the Divines, to beg for help, but in her heart she knew the Aedra had no power in this place. She was alone.

 

_________________________

 

    The Tower was black as coal and its architecture was unearthly.She pried open its massive door, unsure of what awaited her inside. The center of the tower had what looked to be a blood alter, filled with red life. It had no stairs, but it had long, winding platforms that wreathed up the center. The platforms themselves were not stone or iron or anything from Nirn itself. When she was a child, her father showed her how to skin a rabbit. The platforms looked like muscles and tendons that resided inside the flesh. Despite herself, she felt a wave of nausea. Menien would be at the top of the tower.She made her way up the otherworldly platforms to the top of the tower, cutting down scamps and dremora as they stood in her way. As she neared the top, she heard a human voice call out to her.

    “In the cage!” it cried, “Over here!”

    She ran toward the sound and was ambushed by an armored dremora sigil keeper, that wielded thte largest mace she had ever seen. 

    “You should not be here, mortal,” it screamed, “Your flesh is mine!”

    It ran towards her, and Aurelia barely dodged its blow. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in speed. As its massive body turned around to face her, she ducked behind it. It was heavily armored, but it had a weak spot that was uncovered around its neck. Aurelia lept at high as she could and plunged both daggers into its throat. It screamed, and blood poured from the wound, covering her. She removed her daggers and ran toward the cage. 

    “Quickly, there’s no time!” Menien called to her, “You must get to the top of the large tower, the Sigil keep they call it. That’s what keeps the Gate open! Find the Sigil Stone, remove it and the Gate will close!”

  
    “Let me get you out of here,” Aurelia cried, looking for a key.

    “No, there’s no time!” Menien said, “The Sigil Stone, remove the stone. Get to the Keep! The Keeper has the Key, you must get the key!”

     Aurelia obeyed and looked over the sigil keeper’s body. When she found the key, she wasted no time. There was not much time left for Kvatch.

 

_________________________

 

     The Sigil Stone was at the very top of the tower, scamps and dremora lay between her and it. The rummaged through her pack and downed two stamina potions. She would need as much strength and speed as she could muster. It was impossible to face all the agents of Dagon head on, she would run past them and grab the stone. 

     “Talos guide me,” she said, and she began to sprint up to the top of the tower. She dodged any attackers, ducking under the swings of their mighty axes. Her heart was beating violently in her chest and she gasped for air but her lungs would not comply. The muscles in her legs were fatiguing as she ran. But, she could see it. She could see the Sigil Stone. 

_Almost there, almost there, keep running. You’re almost there._

    She reached the top of the keep and did not dare to look behind her. What would happen when she removed the stone? There was no time for doubt. She would do as she was instructed, no matter the outcome. Aurelia grabbed the stone from its setting in the center of an altar and braced herself…

 

_________________________

 

    There was white, only a cloud of white light. She could hear the screams of rage of the dremora as the anchor was removed from its place. Then she felt nothing, like she was asleep. And then she felt everything, the pain and fatigue and fear. But then, familiar sounds. Familiar voices. Dirt beneath her feet. She opened her eyes.

     Aurelia was crouched, clutching the stone, in the middle of where the Gate was once anchored. The guards and soldiers of Kvatch were running toward her, elation written on their faces. She blinked, fast, and tried to stand but she could not. A soldier rushed to her side and helped her to her feet. Savlian ran toward her.

    “Aurelia!” he cried, tears brimming his eyes, “You stupid, disobediant girl!” This was said through broken laughter, “You did it, I can’t believe it. You closed the Gate!”

    She held out the stone in her dirty, bloody hands, “Father,” she said, “I must—”

    “Yes, we will take you inside the city. And then—” he smiled darkly, “We’ll take it back from those bastards! Men, stand with me!”

    Aurelia stood as well, a sight to behold. She was covered in blood, save her blue eyes. It would strike terror into the heart of anyone to see her. With the men, she made her way into the city… _to Martin_. 


	6. Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Emperor's heir is not what she expected.

VI

    Aurelia expected ruin, but she did not expect the deep grief that followed. The home she had known so well was gone, devoured by fire and destruction. Bodies littered the streets and scamps stood over them, blood dripping from their clawed hands. A new anger seized her, and she found the nearest daedra and slaughtered it, stabbing it repeatedly. Where were the gods when the blood of the faithful was painting the streets? Where were the gods when the good men of the city faced their deaths inside Dagon’s Oblivion plane? And why were they so silent still? Her spirit was strong though, and she would grieve another day. Now, she must be focused on the task at hand. Martin was their only hope.

    The Chapel was still standing, but some miracle. It’s doors were blocked by some debri and Aurelia shoved it aside and opened the heavy, wooden doors. A Redguard woman stopped her before she entered, her sword at Aurelia’s throat. Then, when she saw she was no threat, she lowered her blade.

    “I-I’m sorry,” she said, “You did not look human at first. What’s it like out there? We… we were beginging to fear we were the only survivors…”

    “Where is Martin?” Aurelia demanded.

    The soldier looked confused, “Brother Martin? He’s right over there—” she pointed to the altar at the head of the chapel, where a man could be seen praying with the civilians, “He led a group of us to the Chapel during the confusion of the attack, we own him our lives.”

    Aurelia could feel her body relax at the sight of the man. He looked unharmed.

    “Thank you,” she said, genuinely grateful, and made her way to him.

    “ _Martin!_ ” she called, and the priest turned around. He could not have been more than forty years old, but there was something in the way he bore himself that felt so much older, like a man who had seen the horrors of life and was ready to rid himself of it.

    “Have you brought help?” he asked her, “We’ve been trapped here since the daedra overran the city.We’ve little supplies and there are wounded civilians here. I think—”

    “I need you to come with me,” Aurelia interrupted, “Immediately. You’re in danger.”

    The priest darkened, “Of course I am in danger,” he said sardonically, “We all are. But I am needed here, and I will not leave these people. I assume you didn’t risk your own life to come here and tell me what I already know. So,” he took in a deep breath, “Who are you and what in the gods’ name do you want?”

    “Martin—”

    “ _Brother_  Martin,” he corrected her, “I am a priest. Though I don’t think I will be much help to you, I am having trouble understanding the gods right now. If this—” he gestured to the injured inside the chapel, “—is part of a divine plan, I don’t think I want any part of it. I have prayed to Akatosh and no help has come,” he spit, “Only more daedra. Only more death.”

    “Martin,” Aurelia said softly, “Listen to me, please.”

    He did not, and he was growing angry. “What could you  _possibly_  know,” he spat, “that would help me make sense of any of this?”

    “You are Uriel Septim’s son,” she said, grabbing him by the shoulders. He stopped, staring at her bloodied face, his expression shifting from confusion to a dark amusement.

    “ _Emperor_  Uriel Septim,” he said slowly, “You… you think the Emperor is my  _father_?”

    Aurelia nodded.

    “No, soldier,” he said softly, “You have the wrong man. I am sorry you shed blood on my account, but I am only a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer.”

    “Martin,” she said, unsure of how best to proceed, “You  _are_  the son of Uriel Septim. The daedra came here for you, and you alone.”

    The very thought of this washed over Martin in waves, and he shook his head, “No, no,” he said, walking away from her, “An entire city destroyed to get at me? That is not so, that—” his voice broke, “—that cannot be so.” He sad down on one of the chapel benches and rested his head in his hands.Their exchange had attracted some attention now, and Aurelia tread cautiously, lowering her voice.

    “Martin, please,” she knelt down in front of him, “I would not lie.” He looked at her now.

    “It’s strange,” he murmured, “I… believe you. What… what do you want from me?”

    “Come with me to Weynon Priory.”

    “You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say,” he looked at her, “Not without sacrifice, I can imagine. You gave them hope. Yes,” he stood, “I will come with you to Weynon Priory.”

    Aurelia took in a deep breath, “Then we need to go, now.”

    They exited the chapel, after Martin bid a final farewell to his congregates, if briefly. He was concerned for their welfare, it was very clear from his face. Aurelia led him out of the Chapel into the remains of the city. She looked for her father and found him consulting with some of his men.

    “Father!” she called, and he turned.

    “Aurelia, you found the priest?”

    “Yes. I must leave, now. We’ll need horses. Do you have any you can spare?”

    “We may. If there are any at the encampment, take them. They are yours. I need to gather what remains of our forces and try to help the Count, he is still inside.”

    Aurelia wrapped her arms around her father’s neck and embraced him, tightly.

    “Be careful,” she warned.

    Salvian tightened the embrace, his voice thick with emotion, “I do not know what the gods demand of you, Aura. I do not understand what drives you. But I will pray, every hour of every day, until you are back in my arms.”

    “I love you.”

    “And I you. Talos guide you, daughter.”

    And with that, she left him and led Martin out of the city. With a final look, she said goodbye to what remained of Kvatch. Though she was hopeful, somewhere in her heart she knew she would not see it again.

 

_________________________

 

    It would be a five days ride to Chorrol, and to Weynon Priory to the south. There were indeed two horses at the encampment and Aurelia saddled them as quickly as possible. She traded for some minor supplies, another bedroll for Martin and some ripped pieces of cloth for her wounds should they need further attention.  They rode as far as they could before it darkened, and Aurelia could feel the fatigue and exhaustion rushing over her, prompting her to rest, begging her for relief. She saw a small clearing by a river that would be suitable.

    “We’ll stop here!” she called back to Martin and got off her horse. She staggered as she did, praying he did not see. It was important that he felt safe, that would not be so if he realized how tired she was and how weak she had become during her time in the Imperial Prison. But she still had some stamina left. She was not bereft of strength.

    As quickly as possible, she unpacked the bedrolls. They would need to sleep in shifts, they could not afford any surprises. She unsaddled the horses and took their reins. Martin watched her, guardedly, as she did.

    “I will take the horses to the riverbed for some water, you rest. Eat something, you’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

    He nodded, and obeyed willingly. He had not slept in two days, he was grateful for a moment to be alone, to think over what had happened, and what it meant for his future. While his emotions were primarily rooted in fear of the unknown, there was a part of him that feared himself. Shouldering the burden of the Empire was something he was not ready for, something he felt he could never be ready for.

    Then, there was the woman. He had yet to learn anything about her except that she was the daughter of Kvatch’s guard captain. Martin had spoken to Salvian several times over the course of his residency as the Chapel priest, but she was never mentioned. He did not know her name, nor what she looked like. She had been covered with blood and ash and dirt when they met. But, she seemed honorable. While he would remain cautious, he felt that she could be trusted, if only for now.

 

_________________________

 

    Aurelia waited as the horses drank, her eyes on the surrounding area around the river. She could not see Martin or their camp, but she could hear plainly enough should there be any trouble. Her hands were caked with dirt and blood, both human and otherwise. With a sigh, she removed her armor and underclothes and waded into the cold river. It stung her at first, but it was the first time in months that she was able to feel relief and gentleness. She found herself smiling. Her mother used to take her to the river to wash the clothes and she would spend hours laying in the sunshine, letting its warmth seep into her bones. Her father often joked that she was little help with the washing itself, and he was not wrong. She would have made a poor wife, if that had been her fate. After a moment, she grew cold again and swam to the shore. She washed her armor and underclothes as best she could without soaking them entirely, and put them back on. The horses followed her as she returned to camp.

 

_________________________

 

    Martin was reading, rather intensely, when she returned. He had made a fire which surprised her. The priest did not strike her as having any survival skills at all, but she had been wrong many times before and resolved to not cast judgement so quickly.

    “Thank you,” she said, startling him.

    “I did not recognize you at first,” he said, brows raised.

    Aurelia smiled, “I am sorry for that, rather fearsome first impression.”

    “Yes,” he smirked, “You were barely distinguishable from the daedra themselves.”

    “What are you reading?” She grabbed some bread and tore off a piece, offering it to him. He took it and thanked her.

    “It’s called  _A Hypothetical Treachery_ ,” he said, his eyes still on its pages, “I purchased it when I was last at the Arcane University.”

    “You studied there?”

    “Yes, years ago. Before I turned to the priesthood.”

    Aurelia sat back against a rock, pressing the remaining water from her hair. It had gotten quite long, down to the middle of her back now. She had never intended that, but her hair  was so much like her mother’s. It was the color of shined copper and as straight as a blade. She often thought of it as her one unique beauty. Though she never required beauty much, being a soldier’s daughter, she was not devoid of the desire for it. There was nothing objectionable in her features, she had been told that she was quite pretty before. But there were some women in the cities that were so fair that in comparison, she was entirely plain. However, her reticence to cut her hair was less because of vanity and more because of a strange feeling that if she cut it off, then the last piece of her mother would go with it.

    Aurelia had been deep in her thoughts when she realized that Martin was no longer reading, he was staring at her. She lifted a brow.

    “What?”

    “I just realized that you know more about me than I do, in a sense. You have not even volunteered your name. Should I be worried?”

    “Oh, Gods,” Aurelia laughed, “I am sorry. My name is Aurelia. I grew up with most of the townspeople knowing my name by default, I did not often practice introductions.”

    “I see,” Martin smiled and put down his book, “And who sent you?”Aurelia did not understand. “To find me. Who sent you?”

    “Jauffre,” she replied, still very much confused.

    “Yes, I know that. But who sent you to Jauffre? Were you passing the Priory?”

    “Oh, no. I, uh,” she did not know how to proceed. Perhaps honesty was best. “Your father sent me, before he died. I… I was with him.”

    “What?”

    “I was, uh,” she cleared her throat, “I was mistakenly moved to a cell that was supposed to be used as an escape route under the city, should the Emperor ever be in danger.”

    “A cell. You mean you were a prisoner.”

    “Yes.”

    “Were you falsely accused?”

    “No,” she said, “I was guilty.” Martin waited, expectantly. He would not leave this be, and he had a right to know. She would oblige him. “I entered a home that was not mine, by force. I was seen and ran from the city guard. In the process, I unjured him.”

   “You were a thief?”

    She shook her head, “No. Something was taken from me, I wanted it back.”

    “I see.”

    “The man—” she swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling very dry, “—he was a prominent figure in the city. It was his word against mine.”

    “How did he get these personal items from you, did he steal them?”

    Aurelia looked away. She did not want him to see her face “Yes,” she murmured, “He stole a great deal from me.”

    Martin did not say more, and she was grateful for that. When she did look up at him, it was clear that he understood what she did not say. It occurred to her that he was the first person she had confided it about it, and she did not know what to feel about that. Perhaps it was his priest robes that made her feel safer, or perhaps it was Martin himself. Irregardless, he seemed a man of integrity, and for that she was grateful.

“You’d better get some rest,” Martin said, “I will stand watch.”

“Thank you,” Aurelia sighed, “Wake me in a couple hours, I will watch until morning.”

    Martin nodded, and she laid down on the bedroll and shut her eyes. It was mere minutes before she fell asleep, and Martin picked up his book and continued reading.


	7. The Sun's Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at the Cloud Ruler Temple, and Aurelia tastes the bitterness of daedric magic.

VII

 

    Aurelia awoke with a start and was shocked to see sunlight. She had slept through the night. Martin was not in the campsite. She felt the nausea that often accompanies fear and grabbed her daggers and bow, equipping her quiver as quickly as possible.

    “Martin!” she cried, running towards the road. She did not see him.

_Oh, Gods_ , she thought to herself. _No. Please. No._

    “ _Martin_!”

    “Yes?”

    She whirled around so quickly that she she staggered. Martin was standing behind her, not twenty feet away, holding weeds.

   “Gods. _Please_ , do not do that,” she cried, the air rushing back into her lungs. 

   “Do what?”

   “Leave my sight.”

   Martin smirked, “You were sleeping, Even if I was standing next to you I would have been out of your sight.”

   “You didn’t wake me.”

   “No, I didn’t.

   “Did you sleep?”

   “No.”

   “You’re going to regret that today, the road is tiring,” Aurelia sighed as she started walking towards the camp. Martin followed. 

   “I didn’t wake you because I knew I would not be able to sleep, even given the chance.”

   “I see.”

   She eyed the weeds in his hand and he chuckled.

   “Blue Mountain Flower, aids healing.”

   “Are you an alchemist?”

   “To an extent.”

   “That may be useful.”

   “Glad to know I have some use.”

   Aurelia took in the fresh morning air for a moment, before she began to pack up the horses. Martin assisted her as they stamped out their fire and rolled up their beds and tied them to the backs of the saddles. They began to ride southern-ward. 

 

___________________________

 

    By the grace of the Divines, they did not encounter anyone on the road before they reached the boundaries of Chorrol, and even then they saw very few people. It was a grace that was sorely needed. The majority of their time was spent in silence, with Martin deep in thought and Aurelia focused on their surroundings. When the skies darkened and they set up campe, they would talk very briefly, but sleep came fast and easy. 

    When they had past Chorrol, Aurelia found herself speculating on Jauffre’s next request. There was a chance he would dismiss her, that he himself would take over anything that needed to be done to ensure Martin’s claim to the throne and return to the Imperial City, but she doubted it. Uriel’s words ran through her mind continously, echoing in her memory. 

_In your face, I behold the sun’s companion._

   She could not decipher it, not with certainty. The sun itself did not have companions the way the moon did. At night, it is surrounded by stars and the fingerprints of the Divines. But the sun was alone, it did not stand with any other. It would not. Aurelia was interupted in these thoughts by a shrill, infamiliar voice. A Dunmer was running towards them, away from Weynon Priory. He was crying out for help, and she could see why. Behind him was a man in red and black, the same armor she saw on the assassins who murdered the Emperor.

    “Stay here, Martin!” Aurelia commanded, and lept from her horse, charging toward the assassin. As she ran, she fished an arrow from her quiver and set it in her bow, aiming where the armor was weakest: the assassin’s throat. Her arrow hit its mark and blood pooled from the wound. The assassin, still charging toward her, gurgled out its warning.

    “Lord Dagon… will welcome you into… the jaws of Oblivion.”

    The assassin fell to its knees, holding its hand to its throat to slow the blood loss. Aurela took out her daggers and finished him off, severing his head from his shoulders. Two other monks were finishing off the other assassins, but she did not see Brother Jauffre. She questioned the Dunmer.

    “Where is Brother Jauffre?”

    “I-I don’t know. Last I aw, he was in the ch-chapel… praying!”

    “Are you wounded?”

    “No, I am alright I think.”

    “Good. Martin!” The priest was right behind her, “Stay close to me.”

    Aurelia ran towards the chapel when she heard Martin cry out her name. She turned, just in time to see another assassin jumping from the brush with his sword drawn. His blade grazed her side and she cried out in pain. Suddenly, he was struck sideways, and fell dead at her feet. A large, jagged spike of ice pierced through his abdominals, killing him instantly. Aurelia, breathing hard, looked at Martin. The magicka around his hands was still present.

    “Are you alright?” he asked, out of breath himself. She said nothing and merely looked at him in shock. Martin chuckled, “I told you, I attended the Arcane University.”

    “Right,” Aurelia breathed, and ran towards the chapel doors. 

   Jauffre was inside, and safe. When he saw her, his aged face looked ten years younger.

   “Thank Talos,” he cried, “You’re back. They attacked without warning. I was praying in the chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout for help. The Amulet of Kings must have been the target of their attack. It was kept in a secret room, in the Weynon house.”

    “How could they have known it was here?”

    “Little can be hidden from the Daedra. I underestimated the enemy,” Jauffre spit, “It will not happen again. I can promise that.”

    They left the chapel together. The Weynon house was battered and had clearly been ransacked. Jauffre hurried to where the Amulet had been hidden, but it was not there.

    “We gained Uriel’s heir but lost the Amulet of Kings,” Jauffre said wearily and fell into a chair. Martin said very little, but observed carefully. Jauffre looked at him, “You look very much like your father when he was young, you know.” Martin stiffened. 

    “I would not know, I never saw him.”

    Jauffre smiled, grimly, “You may well be alive now because of that fact.”

    Aurelia ran a hand through her hair, “Martin cannot stay here.”

    “No. He can’t.” 

    “Where can we take him, where he will be safe?”

    Jauffre paused, his hands resting beneath his chin. “‘We,’” he repeated.

    “Yes. I made a promise to the Emperor. I’ll not abandon that.”

    “Nowhere on Nirn is truly safe from the power arrayed against us. But we must play for time, at least. Cloud Ruler Temple, I think. The hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma. We should leave at once.”

   Jauffre quitted the room quickly and Aurelia began to do the same. Martin grabbed her arm before she could follow, and pulled her back.

   “You’re wounded,” he said, and she looked down at her side where the agent’s blade had scraped her. It did not appear deep, and the blood had clotted fine.

   “I will be alright, it won’t need much tending.”

   “Did you mean that, what you told Jauffre,” he asked, “You are my only friend now, it seems. I shudder to think of facing all this alone.” 

   “Yes,” she said, “You have my word. And better yet—” she took her dagger from its sheath and pressed it against her palm. Blood pooled at the wound. “Give me your hand,” she said. Martin did so, and she cut his palm as well. Pressing her hand against his with a fierce grasp, she vowed. “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. The Gods gave me this purpose alone, and I will submit to it gladly.” 

   Martin grabbed her other hand in his, “Thank you, my friend,” he said, “When all else falls around me, I will know who I can trust.”

 

___________________________

 

   It was not far to Cloud Ruler Temple, roughly a three days ride. Aurelia felt herself growing weaker as the journey progressed, and was thankful it was quiet. She doubted she could be of much use if they were under siege again. She felt a chill in her bones, but the Temple was in the Jorral Mountains, thick with snow, so she thought little of it. The wind blew fiercely and without relent, and there were mountains she thought she heard voices on the air.

   The door to the Temple was a mass of iron, with thick stone walls to each of its sides. Yes, they would be safe here, if only for now. They dismounted their horses and continued on foot. Aurelia’s body carried her forward, but as they began up the stairs, the world seemed to slow and blur. She closed her eyes, took deep breaths. She would need rest soon, it was clear. A Bladesman approached them, “Grandmaster Jauffre!” he called out, stopping when he saw Martin, “Is this…?”

   “Yes, Cyrus,” Jauffre said, “This is the Emperor’s son, Martin Septim.”

   Martin stiffened at this, noticeable to Aurelia only. Even in the short time they had known each other, she had become familiar with his body language. She always had a gift for sensing things unsaid, her father had told her.

   Cyrus bowed, “My Lord, welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple. We have not had the honor of an Emperor’s visit in many years.”

   “Well, thank you,” Martin stumbled in his speech, “The, uh, the honor is mine.”

   “Come,” Jauffre said, gesturing towards the Temple, “Your Blades are waiting.”

   Martin obeyed, with Aurelia in tow. Martin threw her a look and she reassured him with a gentle nod of her head. The Temple was beautiful, modeled with Akaviri architecture. Dozens of soldiers, clad in Blades armor stood around the mouth of the Temple. Jauffre walked to the front steps and addressed them all, with Martin at his side. Aurelia kept her place near the back wall of the courtyard. 

   “Blades, dark times are upon us,” he said with a commanding presence you would not expect from a monk, “The Emperor and his sons were slain, and we failed them. But there is yet hope! Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim!”

   With that, the soldiers erupted in salutes.

   “Hail, Dragonborn!” “Hail, Martin Septim!” “Hail!” 

   “Your Highness,” Jauffre said, “The Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne.”

   Martin tried, to some success, to hide his nerves as he addressed the Blades.

   “I… I know you all expect me to be Emperor. I will do my best… but this is all new to me. I’m—” he paused, “—I’m not used to giving speeches, I never gave sermons really. But, I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days.That is all. Thank you.”

   “Thank you, Martin,” Jauffre said, “Now, we all best get back to our duties.”

   As the crowd dispersed, Martin approached Aurelia, his brows furrowed so intensely he looked as though he might crack, “Not much of a speech was it?” he muttered, “Didn’t seem to bother them though.”

   “You were fine,” Aurelia reassured him, leaning on the back wall.

   “The Blades saluting and hailing me as Martin Septim… I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I know I would be dead now if it weren’t for you. But everyone expects me to know now how to act, how to behave… how to _lead_ them. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do,” he sighed, “and I haven’t the faintest idea.”

   “It will come, in time.”

   “I hope you are right, my friend.”

    Then, the same feeling as before struck Aurelia again, her vision became unclear and her steps uncertain. She staggered forward, but fell to the floor. In the dimming light, she saw the world move slowly, half its pace, and the ringing took president again. Shadows were around her, their mouths moving, but nothing could be heard except the terrible ringing. And then… voices… no, a single voice… whispering…

_The weak shall be winnowed: the timid shall be cast down…the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon… You… will pray… and your gods shall not answer you._

    Then, in the dark, there was nothing. There was only the void as it overtook her. _  
_


	8. Proximity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin gets too close, and Aurelia finds herself unsettled by it.

VIII

    With a sharp intake of breath, Aurelia awoke. With that intake came pain, radiating down her side and seeping into her very bones. She rolled over, slightly, and looked around. Her limbs, though somewhat numb, were moveable. The room and bed were unfamiliar, but judging from their luxury, she could only assume this was the Emperor’s wing of the Temple.

    “ _Woh, there_ ,” a familiar voice said. She blinked furiously and her vision cleared. Martin sat in a chair beside her, a book in his hand, “Don’t try to move so quickly, be still.”

    The feeling began to come back, slowly, and she could feel compression on her stomach. She lifted the heavy covering and saw her entire torso, from her her collarbone to her waist, was wrapped in a thick gauze. Dropping the cover and falling back to the pillow, she gritted her teeth. The pain was unlike anything she had experienced before. It felt malicious.

    “What—” she said with some difficulty, “— what happened…”

    “You’ve been asleep for two days,” Martin scooted the chair closer to her bedside, “The agent who wounded you was carrying a cursed Daedric weapon. It was eating away at your health and strength for as long as it went unchecked. Luckily—” he smiled, “—I have the skill to counter such weapons. Otherwise, we would have lost you.”

    “Your hidden talents surprise me.”

    “There are many of them, I assure you. And I haven’t been playing nursemaid while you’ve been asleep, you know” he chuckled, “I’ve been doing my own research in the Temple’s Arcanium. There was much to learn.”

   Aurelia began to sit up, but the gauze was stiff and made maneuvering difficult. It occurred to her that it was not the most modest of apparel, there was nothing underneath it. 

   “The wrappings—” 

   “Ah, yes. I did not do that. I felt it was more appropriate to let one of the maidservants here dress your wounds after I had worked on them.”

   “Right. Well, I suppose that would be rather a shocking sight, for a priest.”

   Martin smirked and returned to his book, “I wasn’t always a priest, you know.” 

    Aurelia was about to retort when Jauffre entered the room, “Oh, good,” he said, “I am glad to see that you are awake and on your way to healing. There were moments when Ithought you would not make it.”

    “But yet I live,” she chuckled darkly, “I am in your debt. Truly.”

    “No, not so. We are still in yours.The Great Gate of Kvatch is closed, and the heir is restored to safety. You’ve done well. Do you have enough strength to stand, perhaps? I imagine you need something to eat. You’ve had nothing for two days.”

    “I think so,” Aurelia frowned, and began to slowly undo the furs and blankets. They had put her in simple sackcloth grieves and the cold in the air was invading.

    “Here,” Jauffre said, and handed her a robe from one of the cabinets, “You need to stay warm. The mountains are eternally cold, here. Please, when you feel ready, come see me.”

    “Thank you,” Aurelia nodded. Jauffre, with a nod himself, left them. She tried to stand, unsuccessfully, and staggered back onto the bed. 

    “Be slow, you’re greatly weakened,” Martin gently chided, “Before you eat, let me look at your wounds. While the Daedric curse has been cleansed, we’ll need to be wary of any possible infection. Magic is not the only thing to fear,” he said as he washed his hands. He knelt down next to her and began unraveling the gauze.

    “Wait—”

    “I promise, I will unwrap the gauze only as far as necessary to address the wound itself. You need not feel embarrassed. I am a priest, after all,” he smirked. She tensed, despite herself. Martin had a dexterous touch, and he was able to unravel the gauze without tearing it or ripping it from her skin.“Breathe,” he said softly, looking up at her for only a moment. She had not realized she had been holding her breath. The last time a man had been close to her, it was not by her will. Despite herself, any touch that lingered too long sent shivers down her spine. Even a gaze that rested too long on her felt invading. But there was a safety in Martin she did not fully understand. Perhaps it was because he was genuinely a kind and gentle man, or had appeared to be from her experience with him thus far. There were moments when he reminded her of her father. It was the same gentle strength that he had always shown her. Firm, but fair and without malice. 

    Aurelia was lost in these thoughts when she felt a warm hand on her skin. She sharply took in a breath and cursed.The pain was not something the priest had warned her about. 

    “I am sorry,” he said, and removed his hand, “I felt perhaps it was better not to tell you how badly it would hurt. Perhaps I should have told you.”

    “No,” Aurelia said, clenching her teeth, “It’s fine. I have known far worse, I assure you,” she said darkly. Martin looked at her for a moment, studying her. It made her feel uneasy. “Please,” she muttered, “continue.”

    He did so, and began to look closely at the wound.

    “It does not show immediate signs of infection,” he murmured, almost to himself, “but I feel we should apply a honey salve to be safe. Aurelia lifted a brow and Martin explained, “Honey helps prevent the wound from festering.”

    He walked over to a cabinet on the far side of the room and began to prepare the salve. As he did so, Aurelia could not help but study him. In the chaos of the past few days, she had taken little notice of him. Her focus had been on what was required of her. 

    There were elements of Martin that were clearly from his father. Same blue eyes, inquisitive and serious, perhaps a certain self-sufficency and sternness. But there was a humility in him that surprised her. As she continued her study, Aurelia thought to herself that whoever his mother was, she must have been a beautiful woman. He was not without attraction. She had always been able to assess the appearance of those around her with objectivity, it did not affect her. It was a simple of declaring a soldier fit for combat or not. But there was something about her train of thought that concerned her. She felt it was due to the inappropriate nature of it and resigned to set her mind on more important matters.

    “Jauffre. I have something for him.”

    Martin turned, the prepared salve in his hands, “What is it?”

    Aurelia gestured to her belongings, littered in the corner of the room, “There’s a katana that belonged to Captain Renault. It should be returned to its rightful place in the Temple. It’s all they have left of her,” she murmured.

“Her spirit rests easy. Dying for our loved ones is the most honorable of sacrifices.”

_Yes, it is,_ she thought. Aurelia could not help but think of her mother and a deep grief ran cold in her heart. It was something she buried long ago, but it did not remove the pain of her memory. That would never truly dull, but only lessen over the decades. 

    “I am sorry to have reminded you.”

     Aurelia’s brow furrowed and she looked at him, “What?”

    “There is a distinct look on your face, I have seen if before when you spoke of your past when we traveled. They do not seem to be happy memories. I am sorry to have brought them to your mind, for whatever the reason.”

    “They do not seem happy because they are not.”

    “Well, I am sorry for that too,” Martin replied, genuinely.

    “There is no need to be. What did you find in the Arcanium?”

    Martin stood and walked back to his cabinet and sealed the salve in a glass jar, “All practitioners of daedric magic are familiar with the almost impenetrable barrier between our world and the realm of Oblivion. What the Emperor told you implies that the Amulet of Kings is the key to the preservation of that barrier.” Martin sat in a nearby chair and rubbed his eyes. Aurelia wondered how long it had been since he had properly slept. “What I saw at Kvatch… everything I know about daedric magic says such stable portals are not possible. Yet those Gates to Oblivion existed. The old rules no longer apply. Kvatch is only the beginning of what Mehrunes Dagon will do.”

    “If the Amulet is truly the key to restoring the barriers between our world and Oblivion, than we must waste no time in recovering it,” Aurelia said and moved to get up from her bed. She was able to stand, but it was not an easy task.

    “You are not strong enough,” Martin warned. Aurelia ignored him and took a step forward, his legs buckling under her. In a moment, he was at her side and his proximity, again, made her feel uncomfortable. She sat back down.

    “If I must rest, I will rest. But not for long.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Knight Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proudly, Aurelia dedicates herself to the Blades and finds a very unique new friend.

IX

 

    Aurelia spent the next several days in an anxious rest. When she was able to stand, she did what she could to work the atrophied muscles in her legs and arms. For the coming months, she would need her strength. For the first day or two, she remained in Martin’s chamber while he volunteered to sleep in another. She had a lingering suspicion that he was all too glad to lend her the Emperor’s chamber, lest he be reminded every moment of the burden placed on his shoulders. She imagined he would sleep better in a humble barracks, surrounded by very little finery. Martin was a humble man, a sovereign’s luxury did not suit him. This was something Aurelia herself understood well. 

    As soon as she was able to send a courier, she did so to her father. Her location was mentioned nowhere in the letter and she gave specific instructions to reply using the courier she had sent _alone_. He was sworn to the Empire and had proved himself trustworthy to the Blades over the years. The third day, she left the comfort of the chamber and walked out to the cold of Cloud Ruler’s balcony. She wore the robe Jauffre had given her and it proved warm enough. Her hair fell in copper waves down her back, but it was not beautiful. It was ragged and dirty and desperately needed to be brushed and washed. For a moment, she debated taking a blade to it and removing the problem. But she knew she never would. 

    As if designed, after she settled on the balcony, the courier arrived. Her heartbeat quickened at the prospect of any communication with her beloved father. She yearned to know what progress her home city was making, if the dead were properly buried. As quickly as she could, she went inside and towards the front entrance to greet the man.

    “Good morrow!” he shouted, breathing hard. His horse slowed and he jumped off, bearing a satchel no doubt filled with supplies from the town, and perhaps letters from the loved ones of the men and women that resided here at the Temple. 

    “You have news, I hope?” Aurelia said, her voice rough from its lack of use. He handed her the letter immediately and she greedily tore it open and read the parchment inside.

 

 

> _ My dear girl,  _
> 
> _ It is no secret that I am a man of duty before all things, and I value that this belief has anchored itself in your heart. I am proud of the sacrifices you have made for I know not what, but I can only imagine are of upmost importance. Rumors have begun to circulate that the Emperor’s only heir has been found. I see travelers and citizens of the city alike that have hope because of this thought. Though I know you cannot tell me more, I know this hope is kindled because of you. I am so proud of you, Aura.  _
> 
> _ Chancellor Ocato has sent supplies, soldiers, and horses to the city to help in our rebuild. I am sorry to report that the Count and his sons did not survive the siege. The people of the city, all that are left, have appointed me as the new Count of Kvatch. When this is over, I hope you will come home. You will find the expectations of you greatly altered, but I hope that should we survive this, that you would want to take leadership of the city we have so long called home. I will not live forever, and doubt I will marry again. While I could appoint a steward, I would rather that you, daughter, led Kvatch into a new age of prosperity and hope. You need not respond to this letter, all that needs to be said between us has been said several times over. Every waking moment, I cover you in my prayers and pleads to the Divines to keep you safe. Talos guide you, daughter. I love you.  _

 

    Aurelia sat in the nearest chairs by one of the many fireplaces inside the Temple. Tears came, despite her willing them otherwise. She folded the letter and held it close to her heart. Her father, though he would not say it fully, missed her desperately. Aurelia found herself regretting the last decade for a moment, imagining how her life would have been different if she had stayed. But, as quickly as it came, she dismissed it. If she had stayed, Martin may have very well died in that siege and hope would have been lost. It was a small price for her to pay if it meant that Tamriel had a chance to defeat the greed and destruction of Dagon.

    “M’lady?” 

    A girl, not twenty years old, stood across from her. She wore a maidservants uniform and carried fresh linens in her arms.

    “Yes?”

    The girl smiled, “Master Jauffre assigned me to you, m’lady. I am to attend you in any way you need, with the exception of combat related needs. Gregor at the armory can help you with that.”

    “What is your name?”

    “Ygritte, m’lady.”

    Aurelia was about to correct her, when it occurred to her that she was in fact a lady. With her father the newly appointed count, she would be considered a high born woman. Irregardless, there was no need for such formality now. 

    “You need not call me a lady, Ygritte. I am no such thing.”

    “If that is what you prefer.”

    “Is it,” Aurelia smiled and stood, slowly and with some soreness.

    “If I may, I think a hot bath with salts would do you some good.”

    “I agree heartily.”

___________________________

 

    Ygritte was a shy girl, but she was correct in her assumption, a salt bath did wonders for her sore muscles and dirtied skin and hair. After she had washed, Aurelia felt her strength renewed. The time for rest was over. It was time to find the Amulet of Kings. Aurelia’s cuirass and chainmail and leather greaves and boots had been repaired and cleaned by the armory and her daggers and bow tended to. When she had finished dressing, Ygritte offered to braid her hair. It would be appreciated, it often got in her way. The girl was tender in her touch and opted for something more ornate than Aurelia herself would have done. But it was appreciated nonetheless. She thanked her and quitted the chamber to find Jauffre. 

 

___________________________

 

    Jauffre was in his own chamber, bent over several old volumes and rubbing his eyes when Aurelia found him. The door was opened, but she waited in the doorway regardless, out of respect. She knocked softly and Jauffre looked up, his expression shifting from worry and doubt to a welcoming smile. 

    “Well, it is good to see you walking about!”

    “Yes, I am much improved. Thank you for the services done by your armory.”

    “Think nothing of it. Please, sit down. I must discuss some things with you.”

    Aurelia did so and the old monk stood, clearing his throat, “You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin’s side during this crisis. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honored to accept you into our order. Will you join us?”

    Aurelia smiled, a deep pride filling her, “I will,” she nodded.

    Jauffre smiled, “Then is my honor to welcome you into our order as a Knight Sister of the Blades, Aurelia Matius.”

    “Thank you, Grandmaster.”

    Jauffre leaned against his desk, “I had been meaning to welcome you to the Order immediately upon our arrival but you were not consious,” he chuckled, and then sighed, tired now and once again an old man. “It is good to be back here, at the Temple. It raises my spirits just to walk the halls again. We will prevail. We _must_ prevail.”

    “Then we must act quickly,” Aurelia said, “We have already lost too much time.”

    “I agree. Are you up to traveling?”

    “I can manage fine.”

    “Good. We must recover the Amulet before the enemy takes it out of our reach. You should return to the Imperial City. Baurus may have learned something about the assassin.”

    Aurelia shifted in her seat, “Grandmaster, I may still—”

    “There is no bounty on your head nor warrant for your arrest. It was wiped clean, I made sure of it myself. Whatever your sins were before the Emperor’s death, they are not so now. You will find Baurus at the Luther Broad’s Boarding House in the—”

    “The Elven Garden’s district, yes I am familiar with it.”

    “Good,” Aurelia got up to leave and he stopped her, “Give my warm regards to Baurus. Tell him he should not blame himself for the Emperor’s death. He did well to send you to me.”

 

___________________________

 

    The stables were full and Aurelia was glad of it. She would need a good horse, she had to travel far to reach the Imperial City. Outside the stables there was a fenced area of grassland, kept stocked with hay and grasses. Most of the animals were good and healthy, but there was a single horse that caught her eye. Alone, proud and a stark, pallid white, it stood watching her at the far end of the grasslands. It was not saddled, and it looked almost as if it was challenging her. From its frame and attitude, Aurelia thought it was a male. As she got closer, she found she was correct. When she was not ten feet away she noticed the horse was not merely white, he was an albino. His eyes were a blue that was so pale and icy it looked almost white. The flesh on his muzzle and around his eyes and hooves was red. She could not help it, but in that moment a kinship was formed.

    She approached him cautiously, and held up a hand for him to approach. He did so immediately, and she stepped closer to his pale body and let him familiarize himself with her. 

    “Eidolon hasn’t taken highly to anyone in a long time,” a voice called from behind her. She turned and saw the horsemaster, Gideon. She had not met him but his name and position were made known to her. 

    “An eidolon is a spectre, is it not?” 

    Gideon nodded, “We felt it was fitting when we found him.”

   “Where did you find him, another stable?”

   “No, he was hanging around an Aeylid ruin.” 

    Aurelia stroked his muzzle and he neighed gently, “Strange place for a strange boy,” she cooed and pressed his large head closer to her, “Has he been broken?”

    “We don’t know. No one has cared to find out.”

    “Well, let’s find out,” Aurelia said and walked slowly towards Eidolon’s backside. She laid her arms on the expanse of it, watching his response. She then put weight on him, watching carefully for signs of discomfort or rage. When there was none, she hoisted herself onto his back with some effort and sat there a moment. Eidolon merely looked at her and she smiled, “Come on, then,” she said and he began to trot forward. She stopped him and dismounted,  “He’ll be fine.”

    “I will saddle him for you.”

    “No saddle is needed, I have a pack.” 

    “A saddle would have more storage space.”

    “Yes, but I think he would prefer to not have one.”

    “Alright, then,” Gideon frowned. 

    Aurelia gave Eidolon a pat and walked toward the Temple to gather some supplies before she set off. As she reached the steps, Martin called out to her. 

    “I was looking for you!”

    Aurelia turned and felt that same twinge in her stomach that was so unfamiliar to her before. She ignored it and smiled, “I was at the stables, I need a horse.”

    Martin lifted a brow, “You’re leaving?”

    “Yes, Jauffre is sending me to the Imperial City.”

    “Is that is wise? Your wounds—” he stepped toward her and she stopped him.

    “—are fine. Truly. I am not as strong as I have been in the past, but I can manage. We need to find the Amulet as soon as possible, time is not a luxury we can afford.”

    Martin opened his mouth as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it and merely nodded. Aurelia opened her palm and displayed the now healing cut that had fueled their blood pact. Martin flexed his hand, the same hand that bore a similar cut. 

    “Promises sealed in blood are not done lightly,” she murmured, “I would not leave you here if I did not have every confidence in your safely.”

    “My friend, my concern is not for my safety. It is for yours.”

    “That seems a waste of your concern,” Aurelia frowned.

    “You may think yourself unimportant in this, but you are. My father understood some prophetic truth that we may not know ourselves before the end. You were not chosen by the Divines lightly. I feel you still have some part to play yet that is more significant that a sell-sword or soldier. If you die in a tavern fight in the Imperial City, that won’t come to pass.”

    Aurelia smirked, “You sound like a priest.”

    Martin smiled and made his way towards the Arcanium, “Not a priest anymore.”


	10. Brick By Brick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia travels to the Imperial City, muses about her growing feelings for Martin, and meets someone surprising from her past.

X

    The journey to the Imperial City, though a familiar one, did not bring the feeling of excitement and expectation that it used to. She found herself tensing at every unfamiliar sound and staying close to the road. Jauffre had given her signed documentation of her innocence, in case those who would wish to silence her took further measures to do so. When the city came into view, a glistening monument of progress and the industry of both man and mer, Aurelia took a moment to herself. She tried to imagine Martin, as he was now, presiding over this city. Despite herself, she was amused. The delicate games the Imperial chancellors and nobility played would be lost on him, an honorable man. It was a game, and one you must play to survive. She had learned that from her years assisting her father as his representative in the city. It was never a game she enjoyed, but she understood its necassaity. Martin would not, he was a man of simplicity and wouldn’t know how to play the game.

    Again, he remained in her mind. He often lingered there, and she had learned to hate it in herself. Aurelia knew why, she was not a child. Even the brief time they had known each other, she felt a kinship formed, a bond that had been sealed in more than blood. They were congruous in personality and pursuit and temperment. It was only natural that some kind of affection would form. In some way, they needed each other. She needed a purpose, something to fight for, and he needed a friend who understood him plainly as he was without the title and command he was heir to. If their lives were different, than perhaps they would have been a good match. They might have known the strong, steady foundation of mutual respect and affection her mother had known with her father. But Aurelia also knew it was not compatilibity that she was in danger of. From that comes passion, need, a desperation for that other person. These flames were dormant now, and must remain that way. Aurelia had known them, once before, long ago. She was barely older than a child and had no regrets, but she could not afford the distraction these feelings presented. There would be time in the future, she told herself, with someone else. Anyone else. Not him. After she had resolved this within herself, she felt more at peace. She would build her walls brick by brick and be safe within them. It was the only way.

 

___________________________

 

    The boarding house was the same as it had always been. A bard played a song to coax the patrons into merriment and drunkenness. Prostitutes, though careful, looked for a suitable target. Drunken men lusted for them, and their once heavy coin purses grew light. Aurelia had kept her cowl on the entire ride, hoping to hide anything of herself that was identifying. She removed it now, and watched every face for signs of recognition. After she felt sure there was none, she looked for Baurus. He was sitting at the bar, a mug of ale in his hand. With some reserve, she approached him.

    “Sit down,” he said before she could speak, but he did not look at her. She felt it was imperative that she obey and did so. “Don’t say anything, just do as I say,” the Redguard said, his eyes still on his drink. “I am going to get up in a minute and walk out of here. That man in the corner behind us will follow me. You follow him.”

    Aurelia flexed her fist and nodded, almost imperceptibly. Baurus got up, paid for his ale, and began to walk towards the tavern cellars. As he predicted, the man began to follow him. As calmly and casually as she could, Aurelia made her way towards the cellars as well, her hand on her daggers. After the cellar doors were closed behind them, the man changed and was surrounded by that same blood red cloud of magicka she had seen at Weynon Priory. The assassin lunged for Baurus and Aurelia unsheathed her daggers. But, before she had a chance to plunge them into the agent’s neck, Baurus had cut him down.

    “Impressive,” Aurelia said darkly, her breathing still heavy from the burst of adrenaline.

    “I am glad to see you, by the way,” Baurus winked, “You just caught me at a bad time.”

    Aurelia gestured to the dead man on the floor, “I can see that.” She knelt down and looked through his pockets, satchel, anywhere that could be hiding something. In his pack, she found an old volume, covered in dust. She spit on it and rubbed her sleeve against it, looking for any sort of identifier. When she could not find it on the volume’s cover, she looked inside.

    “Mythic Dawn Commentaries,” she read, “Volume I.”

    She wrapped the aged volume in linen and put it in her pack. It would be useful.

    “The assassins who killed the Emperor were part of a daedric cult called the Mythic Dawn. Apparently, they worship the Daedra Lord Mehrunes Dagon. I’ve been tracking their agents in the Imperial City,” he smirked, “Guess they noticed.”

    “Baurus,” Aurelia said, unsure how to begin, “The enemy has the Amulet of Kings.”

    “What?” Baurus exclaimed, “They took it from Jauffre? Gods, things are worse than I had thought. And what of the heir, did you—”

    “Yes, we have him.”

    With that, Baurus erupted in triumphant laughter, “Thank Talos he lives!” he cried out, “ We will restore him to the throne, its the sworn duty of the Blades!” His joy was infectious, and Aurelia could not help but be caught up in it. Baurus grabbed her shoulders, “What is he like? What’s his name?”

    “Martin,” Aurelia said, guardedly.

    “Martin,” Baurus repeated, reflecting on it, “Emperor Martin Septim. I like how that sounds. Is he a good man, intelligent? I hope we aren’t leading the Empire to ruin with a fool for an heir.”

    “No, no,” Aurelia countered, “He’s got a first-rate mind, very intelligent. Fair, it seems. Kind, reserved. I think he will surpass even the propserity his father brought to the Empire.”

    Baurus grinned, “He seems to have your approval. That doesn’t seem to be something you give away for cheap, is it?”

    “No, its not.”

    Baurus looked at her a moment, clearly amused. She did not like it.

    “Well,” he said, “I cannot wait to return to the Temple and swear myself to him. Hope is kindled, it seems. But not yet. We have work to do.”

    “Tell me what needs to be done and you can consider it done.”

    “There’s a scholar at the Arcane University, Tar-Meena’s her name. Supposed to be an expert on daedric cults. Take that book to her, see what she makes of it. I will keep running down leads on the Mythic Dawn network. If you learn anything, you can find me here. I have a room for long term stay.”

    “Thank you,” Aurelia said and made her way upstairs to the tavern.

    “Oh, Aurelia!”

    She turned.

    “May Talos guide you.”

 

___________________________

 

    The Arcane University was located on the City Aisle, east of the White Gold Tower. Aurelia kept her head down and made her way there immediately. It was nearing dark, but she had no doubt the mages would still be there, their noses buried in their books. Tar-Meena was undoubtably an Argonian, judging by her name, so Aurelia kept her eyes peeled for one. She did not want to attract any more attention than she needed to, and would prefer to speak to Tar-Meena alone. She had little time to look for the Argonian when she entered the library, before she heard a voice in the corner behind her.

    “You must be the one I got the message about,” a raspy voice said. Aurelia turned and who she assumed was Tar-Meena smiled at her. “How can I help you?”

    “I need information,” she said, her voice hushed, “About the Mythic Dawn.”

    The Argonian’s bright eyes widened, and she pulled Aurelia closer to her.

    “You know of them?”

    Aurelia nodded.

    “They are one of the most secretive of the daedric cults. Not much is known about them. They follow the teachings of Mankar Camoran, who they call the Master. A shadowy figure in his own right.” Aurelia pulled the volume from her pack and handed it to Tar-Meena, who examined it closely. “Ah, yes,” she said knowingly, “‘Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes’ … you have a scholarly interest in daedric cults, then?”

    “Not exactly.”

    “Then what do you want?”

    “I need to find the Mythic Dawn.”

    “Find them, eh? I won’t poke my nose in any further. Official business and all that. I am used to working with the Blades, don’t worry. You need not say any more.”

    “Thank you.”

    “In any case, finding them won’t be easy. I’ve studied Mankar Camoran’s writings a bit myself, at least those I could find. It’s clear from the text that Mankar Camoran’s commentaries come in four volumes, but I have only ever seen the first two books. I believe that his writings contain hidden clues to the location of the Mythic Dawn’s secret shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. Those who unlock the hidden path have proven themselves worthy to join the ranks of the cult. Finding the shrine is the first test. If you want to find them, you’ll need all four volumes.”

    “Where can I find them?”

    “Here,” Tar-Meena said, walking to one of the many bookshelves and pulling out a volume, “You can have the library’s copy of Volume II. Treat it gently.”

    “Thank you,” Aurelia said and took the volume. She wrapped it in linen as well and carefully placed it in her pack.

    “Like I said,” the Argonian continued, “I have never seen the third and fourth volumes. You should try the First Edition, over in the Market District. Phintias, the proprietor, caters to specialist collectors. He might have an idea of where to find those books.”

    Aurelia thanked her fervently and made her way to the Arcane University’s front door.

 

___________________________

 

    It was evening now, and all the shops in the Market District had closed. Aurelia would have to rest for the night and ask the bookseller first thing in the morning. She made her way back to the Boarding House, in hopes of finding a room there when she heard her name called out from behind her. She turned and saw noneother than Chancellor Ocato, unchanged by the years and just as cheerful.  _Often too cheerful_ , Aurelia thought.

    “I thought it was you!” the Chancellor said. Aurelia looked in her pack for her writ of innocence and Ocato stopped her, “Oh, never you mind all that. I know you’re an innocent woman, you have always been so respectful!”

    “If you were so sure of my innocence,” Aurelia spat, “then why not say something?”

    Ocato looked surprised, “I did,” he said, “I attested to your character and it lightened your sentence considerably? Did they not tell you? How incredibly rude.”  
“ _Lightened_  my sentence?”

    “The first verdict was death, dear.”

    Aurelia flexed her fists, breathing deeply to calm herself, “I see.”

    The Chancellor’s usual brightness began to fade, “I had thought about writing your father, telling him of your situation. But I did not want to meddle.”

    “I am glad you didn’t. He doesn’t know. He shouldn’t know.”

    “Well, at least there was something I did right. Why in the world are you in the city?”

    “I have official business here, as a member of the Blades.”

    Ocato’s eyebrows shot so far up his face that it almost looked as if they would fly off on your own, “Incredible,” he breathed, “It must be the Divines’ will that we have run into each other. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

    “I was on my way to the board—”

    “You must stay with me! I’ve many spare rooms, and it is only me and my maidservant, Elsha. You can rest safely there, the outside of my manor is heavily guarded, I assure you.”

    Despite her previous disgust, Aurelia was glad to accept the offer. “Alight.”

    “Excellent! We have much to discuss.”


	11. Lyanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia learns the truth of Martin's parenthood as rumors of the Hero of Kvatch circulate in Tamriel.

XI

    Chancellor Ocato’s manor was lavish and eccentric, which was to be expected considering who lived in it. Immediately upon their arrival, his head of house Elsa was at the door. She was old, more than seventy, but had bright, intelligent eyes. She wore a matron’s headdress, with fabric wrapped around the area under her chin, and a linen dress. 

    “Welcome home,” she smiled at the Chancellor. 

    Ocato laid a hand on Aurelia’s shoulder, “Elsa, this is Aurelia Matius. I have known her since she was a girl. Her father is the Count of Kvatch—”

    “Only recently,” Aurelia corrected. 

    Ocato nodded, “Yes. Precisely. He took headship of the city after the Daedric Siege. Truly a servant of the Empire. But, of course, everyone is talking about the Hero of Kvatch.”

    “The Hero of Kvatch,” Aurelia repeated, her brow raised.

    “Yes,” Ocato said, leading her toward a large fireplace surrounded by soft, and surely expensive, furnishings. He sat her down and asked Elsa to bring refreshements. The old woman nodded, and hurried away to fetch something to eat and drink. 

    “What are they saying?” Aurelia asked, her voice guarded.

    Ocato, with a twinkle in his eye, sat across from her with a long leg crossed over the other and his hands tented in front of his face. “They are saying a woman, a warrior from unknown origin, saved the city and disappeared with the rumored heir.” Elsa returned with a tray of bread and mixed cheeses, as well as two cups of alto wine. Ocato thanked her and continued, as she setup the meal. Aurelia watched her curiously. The old woman was indeed listening with interest, she knew that much. But she assumed she was trustworthy. Ocato seemed to speak freely in front of her. He continued, “Her face, age, identity is all unknown. Apparently,” he smirked, “she was covered in blood and looked rather fearsome.”

    Aurelia sipped on her wine and remained emotionless, “Interesting.”

    Ocato rolled his eyes, still amused, “Aurelia, I know it was you.”

    “Do you?”

    “Your father told me, silly girl. But I swear to the Divines I have not told a single soul. Martin is too important to give anything away, even the identity of his companions.”

    “I see,” Aurelia said, distracted again by Elsa. There was a visible tensing of her body when Martin was mentioned. It concerned her and she resolved to confront the old woman later this evening, when Ocato was not around. 

    “So, what is he like?”

    “Hm?” Aurelia said, her attention diverted.

    “Martin Septim, of course.”

    Her attention snapped back to Ocato. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Am I suddenly the expert on the subject?” Aurelia spat and Ocato’s smile widened. 

    “Well, you’ve spent the most time with him. You did travel from the ruins of Kvatch to wherever it is that Jauffre is keeping him.”

    “You mean you don’t know?”

    “No, I do not. And I would like to keep it that way. The less knowledge about Martin’s whereabouts is best. Even knowing his name makes me nervous.”

    “I appreciate your discretion.”

    “Contrary to popular belief, girl, I don’t want the Empire for myself,” Ocato sighed, “Restoring Martin to his proper place as the leadre of Tamriel is paramount. Being High Chancellor is tedious at times. I would prefer to shoulder the burden to another.”

    “And contrary to your protestations, I don’t believe you,” Aurelia quipped, taking another swig of her wine, “You’ve never refused more power.”

    “Power and responsibility are not always one and the same. Emperor’s have the responsibility. People like me have the power.”

    “Then remind me to never cross people like you,” Aurelia said and stood. Ocato stood as well, gesturing to Elsa.

    “Elsa will direct you to your chamber. Sleep well—” Aurelia walked past him, “—Hero of Kvatch,” he murmured into his cup as he drank. She looked at him, and he stood silouetted, facing the fire. He did not look back at her.

 

___________________________

 

    Elsa directed Aurelia to her room and prattled on about where everything in the manor was located, where the servant’s quarters were should she need anything, and other details that she paid little attention to. 

“… and of course, your chamber has an ample balcony should you wish for some fresh air. It is a bit chilly this evening, so I would advise against staying out there too long.”

    When they entered the room, Aurelia was about to ask the old woman about her interest in Martin when Elsa closed the door behind them, her expression quite changed. She looked concerned.

    “M’lady, I apologize for this inquiry, but I need to know something.”

    “Then ask.”

    “This heir, Martin as you call him. How old do you think he is?”

    “I would say no more than forty.”

    “And his mother?”

    Aurelia’s jaw tightened, “And why would you need to know that kind of information?”

    Elsa’s eyes saddened, and she slowly pulled out an aged book, small but well worn, from her apron pocket. She held it in her hands for a moment, staring at it intently, studying it. She took in a deep, shuddering breath, “I was not always a private servant for the Chancellor,” she murmured. “I have been with him for over forty years. I met him at the Imperial Palace,” she said slowly, “where I was a midwife and lady’s maid.”

    Aurelia sensed this would not be a brief conversation and sat down on the bed. Elsa continued, clutching the little book very tightly. 

    “I worked in the Emperor’s household, I helped deliver all three of his boys. Devastating, what happened to them. They were good boys. Proud, greedy men, took that from their mother. But good boys.”

    “Their mother was not a good woman? I have only heard how kind and fair she was.”

    “No,” she said softly, “Caula Voria was a socially grasping woman. It was very clear that she held very little affection for Uriel. But she was beloved by the people, she played the game well. Caula was beautiful and charming, but when the doors were closed and only us servants could see, she was a manipulative, spiteful witch. It did not take long for the marriage to sour. They had separate lives, separate chambers. It was not a marriage, really. More a business partnership in the end that had turned bad.”

    “I am sorry to hear that.”

    “We all were. The Emperor was a good man, with integrity and a genuine desire to rule well. He was a kind master, intelligent and thoughtful. After some years, he started spending a great deal of time in the Arcanium, read every book it contained. He was a voracious reader.”

    Aurelia could not help but smile as she thought of Martin, pouring over books himself.

    “He was still a young man then, but had resigned himself to a life of service to the Empire, as many men do. But,” Elsa clutched the journal even harder, “that was before.”

    “Before what?”

    “Before he met Lyanna.”

    “I see.”

    “She took care of the books, kept them clean and restored any torn pages or ink that had begun to fade or bleed. Quiet girl, kept to herself a lot. Rarely did I hear her speak. Lyanna was intelligent and loved to read and learn herself. I imagine that is where the friendship began. I suppose it did not hurt that she was a very beautiful woman, and Uriel himself was not without attraction. He was handsome by most standards.”

    “What happened to her?”

    “I noticed that Uriel spoke to her often, and spent more time in the Arcanium after she was appointed to the position. They would talk for some hours, she said. About all manner of things. They were congruous in temperament and their minds were so similar, and if things were different, I can imagine they would have made a very happy pair.”

    Aurelia felt the sting of this more than she would have liked. Her hands began to shake and she seemed powerless to stop them. She folded them and buried them between her legs. She did not want Elsa to see. The old woman continued.

    “Lyanna and I would talk about it, when we would walk in the garden. She was a very good woman, with a good heart, and was quite devout. Her affections grew to passion and it disturbed her. But what disturbed me more was that her affections were returned. It was very clear from the way she spoke of him and his actions that he was in love with her as well.”

    “I see. Did you advise them?”

    “Uriel once requested my advice on the matter, yes. I would not have assumed to tell him what to do or not to do if he had not asked it of me directly. Even as a young man, he was devout himself. He trusted the Divines with everything in him.”

   “Yes,” Aurelia said softly, “I know that.” Elsa looked at her curiously. Aurelia cleared her throat, “Please. Continue.” Elsa did. 

    “They tried, very hard. They resolved to not speak to each other, and Lyanna kept clear of him in the Arcanium. But it did not help them. It only fanned the flame more, this avoidance. After some months of self-imposed control, they gave in. I imagine that was the start of how Martin was conceived.”

    “It continued?”

    “For some time, yes. Lyanna was often in a state of fullness and contentment, coupled with fear and paranoia and guilt. They both were.”

    “And when did she become pregnant?”

    “They were very careful, but the Divines had other plans it seems. When she had not bled for two months, she came to me. I examined her and determined that she was, in fact, with child. Uriel was told immediately.”

    “How did he take it?”

    “Lyanna was immediately and discreetly moved to a small house outside of the city, I was sent with her to ensure mother and child had everything they needed for a healthy pregnancy. No one knew but us three and a private courier.”

    “How was that possible?”

    “Everything was done with painstaking discretion. We were very, very careful. Excuses for everything, answers for every possible question.”

“Did he visit her?”

    “As often as was allowed. A majority of their correspondence was done with the private courier and he was silent on the matter. He only delivered the letters in the dead of night. Very careful.”

    Elsa handed Aurelia the book she had been holding onto, “This was Lyanna’s journal. She saved every single letter.”

    Aurelia took it tenderly, “Where is she now?”

    Elsa suddenly looked tired, her demeanor sunken and burdened, “Lyanna died three days after giving birth to Martin.”

    Somewhere deep within her, Aurelia was hoping the woman was still alive. But, in the same place, she also knew that stories like this never ended well.

    “I see.”

    “There was no way to get a message to Uriel when Lyanna went into labor. I had to be by her side and could not travel into the city. When the courier came to check in on us, Martin had already been born and Lyanna’s strength was waning. I asked him to fetch Uriel immediately, but by the time he could find a way to get to her, she was gone. Uriel took the boy that night and I never saw Martin again. Ocato hired me on as his private head of staff here in the city. From the rumors, apparently Uriel did not leave his chamber for over two months after Lyanna died. No one knew why, save for those who knew the truth.”

    Silence followed. Aurelia knew there was something she should say, but she could not think of what words could possibly serve as a salve. So, the silence remained for a while before Aurelia spoke.

    “Why are you telling me this?”

    “Because I am an old woman, and I won’t live much longer. Everyone else who knows this story has passed on. The truth should not die with us.” Elsa walked over to Aurelia and placed her aged hands on hers, “Do what you will with it. I have done what I can."

    And with that, Elsa quitted the room as quickly as she had come in, leaving Aurelia with the weight of what she had learned. She took a deep breath, and opened the journal she had been given and began to read. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will also be adding a one-shot story of Lyanna and Uriel in the coming weeks :)  
> Can you tell I am a Game of Thrones fan?


	12. The Sponsor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia and Baurus get closer to the Mythic Dawn.

 

XII

    Aurelia left Ocato’s manor the next morning without alerting him or Elsa of her departure or where she was going. She left a brief note that thanked them for their generosity and made her way to the Market District to get the third volume of Camoran’s series.

    As she walked, she thought of what she had learned. She read until the early hours of the morning, every letter and journal entry. Both Lyanna and Uriel’s correspondence were preserved and the Emperor himself proved to be a man of deep feeling and profound affection. Something he wrote continued to echo over and over again in her mind: “Even the dominion of death will not keep us apart,” he had written to Lyanna. It brought her some peace to know that now, in his own death, he was with her. Perhaps there was a Divine plan to it all, perhaps it was not simply passions ignited at the wrong time. Or, perhaps it was just that. Human weakness and mistakes that led to terrible tragedy. It was impossible to know in this life. Irregardless, she was resolved to share this newfound knowledge with Martin as soon as she returned to the Cloud Ruler Temple. He needed to know. He deserved to know.

    The Market District was stirring, even at such an early hour. It seemed the even the death of the Emperor himself could not slow the prosperity of those determined to turn a profit. The First Edition was located in a corner on the far left side of the district, and Aurelia walked directly for it. She had no time for anything else.

    Inside was clean, but stocked full of volumes. Bookshelves littered the walls and even the proprietor’s corner itself was covered in old tomes. Phintias himself was a Redguard, of middle age and, from all the books, probably of sound mind. Even if he did not have the volume she needed, Aurelia felt confident he could help her acquire it. He flashed a warm, friendly smile as she arrived.

    “Hello, welcome! I’m Phintias, owner and proprietor of the First Edition. Look around, see if there is anything you like. If I don’t have it, maybe I can get it,” he said with a wink.

    “I’m looking for Volume III of the Mysterium Xarxes.”

    “You must be referring to Mankar Camoran’s  _Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes_. A common mistake from those who don’t know better.”

     Aurelia set her jaw. She did not like this man.

    “Yes, that is what I am looking for. The third volume, specifically.”

    “Yes, it comes in four volumes, the first two volumes are rare. The third and fourth are impossible to find, however.”

    “Then you’re in for a challenge. I need Volumes III and IV.”

    “Well, I happen to have a copy of Volume III on hand, but I’m afraid its a special order. Already paid for by another customer. So sorry.”

    He did not sound sorry.  _He’s going to be if I don’t get that book_ , Aurelia thought.

    “I need that volume,” Aurelia snapped.

    “Gwinas would be terribly disappointed if it was gone when he came to pick it up. Again, so sorry. Can’t help you.”

    Phintias seemed to be enjoying refusing her. Aurelia was not enjoying it.

    “Who,” she asked through gritted teeth, “is Gwinas?”

    “I don’t know him personally, but he was very eager to get his hands on Volume III. Came all the way from Valenwood for it. As a matter of fact, he’s late for his appointment to pick up the book. Feel free to wait for him if you want to speak to him yourself.”

    Aurelia took in a deep breath, “Thank you,” she said coolly and walked outside. She would wait for the elf there.

    With her cowl over her head, she leaned against the wall opposite the bookshop, looking at each passerby. There were quite a few High Elves in the city, so she had quite a few faces to study. But none went into the shop. After several minutes, another High Elf in blood red mage robes walked directly toward the shop and entered it, a spring in his step.

_Hello, Gwinas._

    She waited until he exited the shop, book in hand, and tailed him. When they reached a grassy clearing hidden from any Imperial Guard, she approached him. He startled immediately.

    “H-hello,” he said nervously, “What do you want? H-have you been following me? Leave me alone!”

    “Why so interested in the Mythic Dawn, Gwinas?”

    “How do you know my—oh, the Mythic Dawn? Are you… I-I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t know anything about any daedric cult.”

    Aurelia backed him onto a corner, “I never said it was a daedric cult,  _Gwinas_ ,” she said darkly, “So I will ask you again. Why… so…. interested?”

    “Alright, alight!” Gwinas said, swallowing, “Look, I know that daedric cuts aren’t the thing, socially. But that is just foolish prejudice and superstition! For the adventurous, open-minded thinker, daedric worship holds many rewards!”

     “Yes, I’m sure they do. But the Mythic Dawn killed the Emperor, you idiot. I hope you aren’t so open minded that you’re brains have fallen out of your skull.”

     The elf looked as though he was about to vomit, “What? The  _Mythic Dawn_ were the ones…? I-I had no idea. I truly had no idea. I knew they were a daedric cult, but Mankar Camoran’s views on Mehrunes Dagon are fascinating, revolutionary even—”

    Aurelia took a step toward him, “Watch yourself, Altmer.”

    “Oh, Gods preserve me! Here! Take the book! Please! I don’t want anyone to think I had anything to do with their plot. Take it, take it!”

    He practically threw the volume at her and he started to run away. Aurelia grabbed at his collar and slammed him against the wall.

    “I didn’t say you could leave,” she hissed and he nodded repeatedly, like a frightened child. “I need the fourth volume as well. Where can I get it?”

    “You c-can only get the f-fourth volume directly from a Mythic Dawn member. I h-had setup a meeting with the Sponsor, as he called himself. Here, take this note they gave me. It tells you where to go. I don’t want anything else to do with it!”

    “Good,” Aurelia smiled and released him, “You can go.”

    The elf ran away from here with a speed that was surprising for his age and size. Aurelia wrapped the third volume in linen as well and placed it in her satchel, along with the note. She needed to talk to Baurus, immediately.

 

___________________________

 

    “You’re not easy to get ahold of,” Baurus said, “What have you found out?”Aurelia explained what she had learned from Tar-Meena and her confrontation with Gwinas, trying to be both brief and thorough in her summary. Baurus’ jaw clenched and his hands were both in tight fists at his side. “They’ll pay for the murder of the Emperor,” he said, “Now that we know who they are, it’s only a matter of time. I plan to be covered in their blood before this is over.”

    “The High Elf gave me this note, it details where the meeting with the Sponsor is to be held. This just might be the break we need, but we need to leave now.”

    “Good work,” Baurus said, looking over the note. “We need to get that fourth book. If Tar-Meena is right, which she usually is, we can use these books to locate the Mythic Dawn’s hidden shrine. I know this part of the sewers well. Let’s go.”

    Aurelia smiled. She would enjoy this. They both would.

 

___________________________

 

    “Feeling nostalgic?” Baurus joked as they made their way toward the Imperial Sewer system. That same smell of death and decay and human waste heightened her memory of her first time in these sewers. It was not something she wanted to relive. She was glad for Baurus’ sense of humor. Made it all go down a little easier.

    “Home sweet home,” she mumbled, her hand over her mouth to avoid the stench. They came to a passage with an old, wooden door at the end of it. Baurus motioned for her to be quiet. She understood.

    “Okay,” he whispered, “The room with the table the note references is just through that door. I always wondered who put it there. Now, I happen to know that if you go up the stairs to our left—” he gestured to them, “—you can get a vantage of the meeting room. I think I’d better be the one to handle the meeting, you can be my backup. I’m no archer, so your skills are better suited. Keep watch from above in case of trouble. And try not to let me die, okay?”

    Aurelia smirked, “I’ll do my best,” she said and began to walk towards the stairs. Baurus grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Listen,” he said, suddenly very solemn, “I may not survive this. But if I don’t, you must. You must recover the book and find the Amulet of Kings.”

    “I swear to the Gods, if you leave me to handle Jauffre alone I will drag you back from eternity so I can kill you myself.”

    “ _Ha_! Well, then. Glad to have you at my back, kid,” he winked. They both took their places, and waited in silence for the Sponsor. Aurelia kept to the shadows, her bow poised and ready should any trouble arise. Baurus sat at the table, his hands folded, whistling.

    “Idiot,” Aurelia huffed under her breath. But she kept her focus. Baurus was one of the few resources she had, and she genuinely liked him. His death would be a great grief to her.

    When the Sponsor finally arrived, he wore deep red mage robes, similar to the ones Gwinas wore but not the same. Black gloves and a black belt were the only accessories. And, like Gwinas, he was a High Elf. Aurelia was starting to see a pattern.

    “So,” the Sponsor said cooly, “you want to become one of the Chosen of Mehrunes Dagon? The Path of Dawn is difficult, but the rewards are great. I have the book you seek. With it, and with the Master’s three other books, you will possess the key to enlightenment. But do you have the—”

    Suddenly, two other Dawn agents were on the bridge where Aurelia was hiding and spotted her. They cried out and the Sponsor turned in their direction.

    “I told you to come alone!” he screeched, and drew his dagger and attacked Baurus, “Brothers, kill them! Kill them both!”

    Aurelia loosed an arrow on the closest agent, and it lodged itself right between his eyes. His body went rigid and he fell from the bridge. She took out her daggers and faced the other agent, who was a great deal larger than she was. And, just like all the agents she had faced before him, he used magicka to equip armor. His weapons may have been cursed as well, so she tread carefully, dodging every blow. When she found the perfect moment, she struck, plunging her blades into a weak spot below the agent’s chest piece. She twisted them so they would wreak havoc on his intestines. The bacteria released from his bowels inside his body would kill him, if the internal bleeding didn’t. He spat up blood, and fell to the floor screaming. Baurus looked to have the high ground with the Sponsor, so she took her daggers from the other agent and finished him by shoving them in both of his eyes. He was silent. As she did so, Baurus struck the final blow to the Sponsor’s head, and he fell. She ran down the stairs.

    “Are you alright?” she asked breathlessly, “Are you wounded?”

    “Just a scratch,” Baurus coughed, holding his hand over a gash in his leg. Aurelia looked at the Sponsor’s blade. It looked daedric in nature and it concerned her.

    “We need to get you to Cloud Ruler, then. If this was a cursed weapon, you’ll need Martin’s help to heal. Better to be safe than sorry.”

    “Agreed,” Baurus said, holding up the fourth volume, “We got what we came for, anyway. Let’s get out of this shithole.”

 

___________________________

 

    They exited the sewers and made their way back to the boarding house.

    “You grab some supplies, maybe wrap that wound. I will take the volumes to Tar-Meena and see what she says. Meet me at the stables as soon as you can.”

    Baurus nodded and they separated, he towards the boarding house and she towards the Arcane University’s library. When she arrived, Tar-Meena was as she always seemed to be: reading by the fireside.

    “Here,” Aurelia said, and practically shoved the satchel into the Argonian’s lap. “I have all four volumes. Help me find the shrine.”

    “Keep your voice down,” Tar-Meena said, both shocked and concerned, “How did you even get these so quickly?” She looked at Aurelia’s blood spattered grieves and waved her hand, “Never mind, never mind. I don’t want to know.” She pulled the books out and looked through some of the pages. “It’s a fairly common practice of these esoteric cults to put hidden messages within their sacred writings. In effect, simply by finding their way to the shrine, prospective members have already passed the first test on the road to enlightenment.”

    “Can you decipher it?”

    “You’ve piqued my curiosity, I must admit. But I will need time.”

    “How much time?”

    “At least five days,” Tar-Meena mumbled as she looked through the volumes. That gave Aurelia enough time to escort Baurus to Cloud Ruler, rest, and return.

    “Then I will see you in five days exactly. Thank you for your help.”

    The Argonian looked at her knowingly, “I will do all I can, child. I will do all I can.”

    Aurelia left her in the library and headed toward the door when she noticed a room adjacent to it, marked ‘Records’ in old, faded letters and she stopped in the middle of the hallways. Then, without a single thought otherwise, she opened the door and went inside. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia and Baurus return to the Temple, where Aurelia finds herself facing the pieces of her heart she fears most.

XIII

    The journey back to Cloud Ruler was easier with pleasant company. Baurus was a congenial sort of man, and liked to crack jokes as often as he could. Thought, it did irk her tremendously that he had adopted the nickname “kid” for her and used it often. Despite that, his mirth helped soothe her already singed nerves as they got closer and closer to the Temple. She hoped Martin would be glad of the information she had discovered, glad to know of his parenthood. But, perhaps he would feel she had imposed on his privacy. While she doubted that, there was a small voice inside her that continually suggested it.

    When they finally arrived, Baurus seemed weakened but nothing too alarming. Regardless, Aurelia wanted Martin to take a look at his wound to ensure he was alright. No one else should have to feel what she felt, what she still was feeling. The wound had healed, but it still ached in a way that felt deeper than something in her flesh. It was like a shadow on her soul that would never see light again. 

    Again, despite herself, she remembered the way Martin had cared for her when she felt she was beyond help. The kindness and gentleness he displayed almost grieved her. It was not something he restricted to her alone, he was kind and gentle with everyone. It was his way. But, it still made her heart beat faster than it should. And she found herself hating her heart for its betrayal.

    “I’d forgotten how beautiful it was,” Baurus said, interrupting her thoughts. He flashed her a wide, unbridled grin and kicked his mare in the side, prompting her forward faster. Aurelia laid a hand on Eidolon and he followed the mare, overtaking her speed easily. She couldn’t help but laugh at Baurus’ expression as she passed him. 

    “Some of us are riding mere horses,” he shouted, “instead of ghosts!”

    “Not my problem!” she called back. 

    They reached the top of the Temple and she dismounted Eidolon and released him to find water and food in the open stables. Baurus led his own mare to the stables himself and limped back to where she stood. 

    “Let’s get that looked at, shall we?”

    Jauffre stood at the steps now, openly glad to see them both. 

    “Grandmaster,” Baurus said, bowing slightly. Jauffre embraced him. 

    “It’s good to see you, Baurus.”

    “We need to take a look at his wound, Grandmaster,” Aurelia said, gesturing to Baurus’ leg. “We are dealing with members of a daedric cult, and they may have several cursed weapons at their disposal.” 

    Jauffre’s eyebrows raised, “A daedric cult?”

    “I will fill you in, Grandmaster,” Baurus said, “while we are taking a look at my leg.”

    Jauffre nodded, supporting Baurus, “I will bring you to Martin.”

    They made their way into the Temple, but Aurelia did not follow them. Instead, she decided she would find Ygritte and try to wash some of the blood and sweat from the past few days off. It gave her an excuse to put several walls between herself and Martin, and gave her some time to collect herself before she gave him his mother’s journal.

    Ygritte was happy to see her, and was very honest about the smell.

    “Yes, m’lady. You could use some refreshing, I think.”

    “I can always trust you to be blunt with me, Ygritte,” Aurelia chuckled and began to remove her armor and underclothes. Her muscles and joints were sore from their travels and the fighting, it felt good to soothe them in a salt bath. She wet her hair and sat there in the silence for a moment, her eyes closed. Then, she held her breath and went under the water so as long as she could muster. It was a game she used to play, when she was a child. Each time she went down, she would try to add another three seconds until she couldn’t manage anymore time. It was a personal challege to her. She ruminated on something she had not noticed until recently. For the first time in her life, she wished her mother had taught her more about the delicacies of womanhood, of feminine charm and elegance. As a child, she was taught court manners and the importance of social grace. But when her mother died, she had little reason to practice it. Her father did not go to court often, and began grooming her at girlhood to be Kvatch’s Captain of the Guard. As it was, Captains had little need for social finesse. It was more important they knew how to lead a legion of men, how to earn respect, how to protect a city from a siege. Aurelia was a smart woman and how to present herself as a woman was not something that was impossible to figure out. It wasn’t complicated. It just wasn’t as comfortable as it probably should have been. If her father intended her to take on the role as Countess afte he passed, she would need to slip easily into a new kind of armor, one that protected her from the secrets and subtleties of court life. 

    Aurelia finished and Ygritte brought her a warm, deep blue linen robe. 

    “Shall I brush your hair, m’lady?” she offered and Aurelia could not help but smile. She really was a very sweet girl, and she thought of asking Jauffre if she could take her back to Kvatch with her when all this over and she returned home. 

    “I would like that, Ygritte. Thank you.”

    She sat on a near chair and Ygritte began to brush her hair, softly and with great tenderness. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it.

    “You’ve such pretty hair, m’lady.”

    “Ygritte, you can just call me Aurelia.”

    “Is that what you wish?”

    “I want you to do what makes you most comfortable.”

    “Then I would like to call you ‘m’lady’ then if that is alright.”

    Aurelia chuckled, “I suppose I should get used to it. And thank you, about my hair. It seems to be the only beautiful thing I inherited from my mother.”

    “Begging your pardon, m’lady, but that isn’t true. You have many beautiful things.”

    “Well, I suppose to some my dedication to the Empire could be considered beautiful, but I—”

    “No, m’lady. I mean physical attributes. I think you are very lovely.”

    Aurelia took Ygritte’s small hand and smiled at her, “You’re a kind girl, Ygritte.”

    “I am not someone who gives false compliments. If you were not beautiful, I would not say so to you. You’ll never hear me tell you that you’ve a womanly figure, for example—” Ygritte’s face went pale and she almost dropped the brush she was holding. “Oh, Gods. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that to you, m’lady. Please don’t dismiss me, I’m—”

    Aurelia started laughing so hard that she could feel her chest starting to hurt. “You’re fine,” she croaked, “You’re fine, Ygritte! It’s completely true, I take no offense. I promise. I am very aware that I lack that attribute. I’ve always looked more like a wooden board than an hourglass. The boys I played with as a girl often reminded me of that.” Some color came back into Ygritte’s face when she realized that Aurelia was genuine. She smiled brightly. 

    “I think I like you very much, Aurelia.”

    “And I like you, Ygritte.”

 

___________________________

 

    Aurelia dismissed Ygritte after her bath and went to her chamber to rest. And wait. When night fell, and she felt confident that the Temple was asleep, she braved her way into the hallways and toward the kitchens to fetch something to eat. She passed the library on the way and noticed the fires were still lit. While she was grateful for the warmth, she wondered why the servants had left it unattended. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a book slamming shut, and an all too familiar voice addressing her.

    “I wondered where you were.”

    Martin was sitting, initially hidden from view, in one of the chairs in front of the fire. Like usual, a book was in his hand. He stood, illuminated by the fire, and walked toward her with something like a smug smile on his face. Her mouth was suddenly very dry as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. 

    “Apparently, like an apparition, you were at Jauffre’s side and then vanished.”

    “I was tired.”

    “You slept?”

    “No.”

    “Then, what were you doing?”

    “I was in my chamber.”

    “Doing what?”

    “Nothing.”

    “Nothing,” Martin repeated, the same smug smile plastered on his face. “You were just waiting alone, until the cover of darkness so you could sneak unaccosted into the kitchens?” Aurelia did not answer and he rolled his eyes. “I suppose all people have their secrets. I will leave you to yours. Baurus told me what you learned of the Mythic Dawn. This Tar-Meena sounds like an excellent resource. I am glad we have her, we’re blessed in that. I do not know if I would have had the knowledge to decipher it myself.”

    “She estimated it would take roughly five days to uncover what secrets the Commentaries hold. I will rest tonight and tomorrow, and ride back to the Imperial City at sunrise the next day to ensure no time is wasted.”

    Martin shifted in his stance, “For someone who swore a blood oath to my protection, you are not around very much, are you?”

    “It’s the only way I can protect you.”

    He studied her a moment, and it made her nervous. He saw too much, it seemed. She broke the silence, to save herself.

    “I have something for you.”

    His brow raised, “Do you?”

    She nodded, “Follow me.”

    Aurelia walked to her chamber and opened the door, gesturing for Martin to go inside. He looked at her a moment, unsure, and did so. She closed the door behind her and he took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. 

    “I really hope you aren’t going to kill me.”

    “Not today,” Aurelia smiled and went into her satchel to retrieve the journal that Elsa had given her. She held it out for him, “Here.”

    He took the journal. “What is it, something you found about the Mythic Dawn?”

    “No,” Aurelia said softly, “That is your mother’s journal.”

    Martin’s body went rigid and his breath stopped entirely. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but could not. He blinked rapidly and finally managed to ask her, “What did you say?”

    Aurelia leaned against the bed-frame with her arms crossed and her eyes as solemn as stone. “When I was in the Imperial City, I stayed with the High Chancellor. His head of household was an old woman who used to work in the Imperial Palace over forty years ago. She delivered you.”

    “I don’t understand.”

    “When I was at the Arcane University, I took the liberty of looking into the kept records to verify her story. It’s all true. Inside are letters between them, as well as her own account of their growing affection and his character.”

    Martin sat down beside her on the bed with the journal in his lap. His eyes were fixed on it and they did not move. She watched him a moment and then sat down on the other side. 

    “I wanted you to have this, so you would know that your father was a good man, devout and full of integrity. He was entirely honorable.” Martin looked at her, his eyes brimming with both pain and something that resembled hope. Aurelia smiled, “I wanted you to know that you were conceived in love. You were not an afterthought or a result of a badly timed tryst with an unnamed woman. Your father loved your mother, very deeply. And I imagine it caused him significant pain to never know you. You were the only piece of her he had left.”

    Both were silent for a moment. Martin opened the journal and looked through its pages, his eyes filling with tears.

    “Lyanna,” he said softly. “Her name was Lyanna.”

    “Yes. She was beautiful, they say. Beautiful and kind and intelligent.”

    He took out one of the letters, addressed to Lyanna from Uriel and read aloud. 

    “‘I doubted the goodness of the Divines until you, for you are the living proof of their goodness. You are the manifestation of their grace _._ ’” Martin set the letter down and cleared his throat. “He was eloquent.”

    “Apparently he loved to read. So did she. Seems to be a family trait.”

    Silence followed once again. Aurelia moved to stand and Martin suddenly grabbed her hand. He eyes were still fixed on the journal, but his hand held onto hers with a ferocity she had not felt before. 

    “Thank you,” he said softly, and looked over at her, his blue eyes glassy and filled with a genuine gratitude and awe, “You don’t know how much this means.”

    “I do know,” she said, “That is why I did it.”

    She had expected him to release her hand, but he did not. They sat there, her hand in his and her heartbeat quickening each second it remained. He was her superior, she would feel strange removing her hand so suddenly from his without his permission. But if she remained here, in this moment, she felt she would fall into some ever widening hole she had been running from since this all began. It was a hole she imagined she could not easily climb out of. It would be her ruin. She felt both a terror and a need to have this proximity, to be near him. It was both elating and frightening in tandem.

    Martin blinked, and released her. Breath came back into her lungs and she stood, taking several steps across the room to put some distance between them. 

    “I imagine you will want to read all that privately,” she hinted. 

    He stood, holding the journal in his hand and nodded, “There is quite a bit here. It will take me some time to read through it all. Though, I imagine I will treasure each moment of it.”

    “I hope you do.”

    Martin walked toward the door and opened it, but stopped before he left the room and looked at her.

    “Why did you bring this to me?”

    “Because I knew you wanted—”

    “No, I mean I know _why_ you did it. What made you want to?”

    She was not prepared for that question. Like so many years before, when her father had asked her what she wanted to do with her life, she found she had no answer. 

    “I don’t know,” she said, after a moment. 

    Again, Martin studied her. She imagined her face betrayed what she did not say. She did know. She knew very well. Every fiber of her being was crying out why. Silently, she prayed that he could not see that, or decipher what she was hiding deep within herself. 

    But, there was some recognition there. Something in his face that told her he understood what she did not say. Perhaps that was her fear, paranoia telling her falsehoods. She looked away, folding her arms protectively around her chest. She would not look at him again. 

    “Well, thank you,” Martin said, “Good night Aurelia.”

    “Good night, Martin.”

    And with that, he left the room. She felt the blood rush back to her legs and her fingers and her face and she sat back against the wall and sank to the floor. It was too late now, she had fallen into that hole. How she would dig herself out she did not know. 

 

___________________________

 

    Martin sat, the journal to his side, with his hands tented in front of his face and his forehead pressed against them. His eyes were closed and he breathed deeply and evenly. He glanced at the opened page of the journal and read the first line, again and again. The words of his father to his mother echoed in his mind like both a blessing and a curse. 

_I doubted the goodness of the Divines until you._

    For the first time since the siege of Kvatch, Martin got down on his knees and began to pray. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's starting... ;)


	14. Ghosts Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin and Aurelia talk about his past.

XIV  

    Aurelia slept very little that night. Her mind was occupied by the threats of Dagon, the expectations of the Blades, and the disturbing developments of her own heart. She felt the best thing she could do now was to be cordial, but to not give into long conversations or extensive personal encounters. Considering how often his nose was buried in a book, she hoped this would be an easy feat.

    She did not know it yet, but it would not be.

    That morning, she put on her leather grieves, tunic and leather bodice that she had so kindly received from Maro. It was wearing well, and she reminded herself to pay him a visit on her next journey to the Imperial City. The night before, she had dropped her bow, quiver and daggers off to Gregor at the armory to be repaired, sharpened and clean. Alert, but not unhappy, Aurelia walked down the hall towards the back entrance of the Temple towards where the armory was located. On her way, she stopped by the kitchens and grabbed an apple.

    Gregor was a kind, older man with grey eyes, grey hair and a grey beard. He might as well be called Gregor the Grey. Aurelia bit into her apple and leaned on the support poles for the armory’s overhang and watched him as he worked the forge.

    “Ya gonna watch me all day, or give me a hand there, lass?” he said, his eyes still on the forge. Aurelia smiled and whistled for Eidolon. The stables were congruent to the armory so it did not take him long to get. She gave him the apple and laid her cheek against his muzzle.

    “Yah otta fence that beast in,” Gregor warned, wiping dirt and sweat from his brow.

    “I see no point to that. If he chooses to go, then I will not stop him.”

    “He’s a horse.”

    “No,” Aurelia smiled, and cooed at her unique, pallid friend, “He’s an apparition.”

     Gregor rolled his eyes and walked over to his table, “I assume you’re here for your weapons, eh?” Aurelia nodded. “I took the liberty ofreinforcing the grips on your daggers with some corded leather.”

    “Thank you,” she took them gratefully and immediately equipped them. She left the forge and led Eidolon back to a grassy clearing to graze and rest. The Blades had a training ground on the southside of the grounds and she decided that it would be best to build up the muscle and strength she had last in the past few months. While her strength was returning, it was returning very slowly. Her skills would need to be sharpened to a finer point.

     Aurelia posed in front of one of the training targets and took an arrow from her quiver. She breathed, deeply, focused in on the target, and loosed it. It hit the center, and she knew it would. It was easy to hit a target in the quiet of the morning, when there were no attackers or distractions. In the midst of a skirmage, it was different.

    “Aurelia!” Jauffre’s voice called behind her. He was approaching the training grounds, with Martin beside him. She tensed, took in a deep breathe, and turned to them.

    “What is it, Grandmaster?”

     “I felt it would be prudent if, while Martin was here, he trained.”

     “With all do respect, Grandmaster, Martin is perfectly capable in combat. He trained at the Arcane University.”

     “Exactly,” Martin chimed in, “My skills are limited for the most part. The peoples of Tamriel would feel more comfortable, I feel, if their Emperor could handle a sword as well as learn spells from old, forgotten tomes. It instills confidence. And, there are those who do not feel at peace with magicka use. The Emperor should unite both fronts.”

     Unfortunately, Aurelia saw his point.

     Jauffre smiled, “Good. Please, Aurelia. Oversee that he learns and learns well.”

    “Yes, Grandmaster.”

    Jauffre left them, and she watched him go for a moment before she went to the target to collect her arrow. Her eyes still on her bow, she addressed Martin.

    “You’re not wearing your priest robes.”

    “No.”

    Indeed, he was not. He wore a simple tunic and leather greaves. It was not an unpleasant sight, that was certain. Priest robes were not form fitted, usually, as they were meant to unsex the wearer by their very nature. This was a new development, one that she was not entirely comfortable. It was far easier to repress any growing feelings she had when she thought of Martin as a priest. He did not look it now.

    Aurelia took an arrow from her quiver and positioned it her bow, breathing deeply.

    “Why not?” she asked and released the arrow. It was slightly off center this time.

    “Because,” Martin said, watching her intently, “I’m not a priest.”

     “No?”

     He walked up behind her and grabbed a short sword that was left leaning on the target.

     “No.”

     He walked backwards, his eyes fixed on hers, the sword in his left hand.

     “You’re left handed,” Aurelia observed, glancing at him.

     “Perhaps.”

     She lifted a brow, “And that means what exactly?”

     “I would rather whoever I am fighting didn’t know where I was weak.”

     “So, what? You’re going to learn to fight with both hands?”

     “Naturally.”

     Aurelia smirked, “Martin, learning to fight with even the your proper hand is difficult. Let’s start with that before we get ambitious.”

     “I’ve always been ambitious. It’s too late to stop now.”

     Aurelia grabbed a short sword for herself and approached him, her stance casual.

    “Strange,” she said, pivoting her legs sideways and getting into fighting position, “I didn’t realize that being a priest of a small chapel in one of the poorer provinces was an ultimate goal for an ambitious man.” She lifted her sword, “Well, then. Hit me.”

    Martin mirrored her stance, very carefully observing her movements and adapting himself as a perfect reflection. He seemed to strike and she countered appropriately, but he deviated and adapted quickly, surprising her with an additional blow. Her surprise must have been evident on her face because Martin smirked.

    “I wasn’t always a priest, remember?”

    Aurelia was about to respond when he lunged at her again with surprising speed. But, she had over a decade of experience in her favor and she quickly countered him, taking stridesto position herself. In a single movement, she was behind him with her blade at his throat.

    “You were a better priest than a swordsmen,” she quipped.

    “I concede to that.”

    She released him and set her sword, face down, in the dirt. She leaned on the hilt, slowing her breathing, “You have a good start, though. Someone taught you proper footing.”

    “My father.”

    “I thought he was a farmer?”

    “He was. But he trained as a soldier in his youth.”

    “Makes my job easier.” Despite her earlier resolution to stay away from personal conversations, her curiosity bested her. “You know, I noticed that there was not a record of you at the Arcane University. I was curious as to why.”

    “You actively looked for my records?”

    Aurelia was indignant, “Like I said, I was curious.”

    “I was not in attendance long enough for there to be records, I suppose.”

    “You did not complete your training?”

    Martin’s face darkened, and he looked off into the Jerall Mountains, “No. I did not.” Aurelia waited for him to continue. He looked distressed and she was not sure if she should continue to pry. With a heavy sigh, he began to explain. “In my youth, I followed a different path. It makes sense now, knowing more about my father. He was plagued with dreams, visions, things he could not control.”

    Aurelia nodded, “I know.”

    “So was I,” Martin frowned, “My youth was spent in fear of the night. Sleep came, and with it came nightmares and hellish versions of the world I had known in daylight. Perhaps I was seeing what Tamriel’s fate will be if we should fail.”

    “They say the Septim blood is Divine and those in the line have rare and powerful gifts. There’s a cost to that, it seems. Your father understood that.”

    “Yes. But, my father had the benefit of knowing his bloodline, an anchor to the chaos of the things he saw at night. I didn’t. As far as I was concerned, I was the poor son of a farmer who was touched with madness.”

    “I see.”

    Martin ran a hand through his hair, as he was wont to do when he was distressed or deep in thought. “I prayed to Akatosh, to the Divines. But the dreams did not cease.When my father died, my fortitude was shattered. I sought immediate relief from the ghosts that came in the nighttime. Desperation drives us to do things we never thought possible. The Arcane University offered little help as well. Until I stumbled upon  _Modern Heretics_ , an introductory book into daedric cults. It did not take long for me to find one.”

    “Who did you choose?”

    “The only Daedric Lord that promised to sugar over the devils with something better, something easier to swallow. Sanguine.”

    That was not something Aurelia expected. Sanguine was known as the Daedric Lord whose domain is over the darker natures of man. Lust, sin, sloth, gluttony, greed. These were traits she would never have attributed to Martin himself. But, she understood that way that pain, loneliness, and fear could turn you into a stranger to yourself, bring you to do to things you never thought possible.

    Martin was watching her, perhaps deciphering her judgement of him, and found none. Her expression softened, actually.

    “There are some things that never heal. But we cling to what drowns them out.”

    “Yes.”

    “I am glad you are unharmed.”

    “I survived my own poor judgment. My friends did not.”

    Martin looked at the floor, his expression hardened and shadowed with grief. Aurelia laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

    “There are demons in all of us. What defines us is not their presence, but how much we give into them.”

    He looked at her and laid his hand on her own, “Thank you, my friend.”

    She smiled, briefly, and withdrew. This proximity was dangerous. "We should, uh," she said, taking a step back, "We should continue your training."

    "Right," Martin murmured, "We have so little time."

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. What Is Right, and What Is Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much angst!

XVI

    That evening, Aurelia gathered any supplies she would need for her journey back to the Imperial City and prepared as best she could. The other Blades were all gathered in the mead hall, enjoying a boar that one of the officers had hunted and brought back. From outside, she could see the warmth from the fires in the halls. illuminating shadows on the mountains. When she was finished, she joined her fellows Bladesmen and tried her best to relax.

    Baurus was in the middle of what must have been an arresting story, all eyes on the southern end of the table were trained on him. 

    “Then I asked him, ‘How’s your wife?’ and he said, ‘She’s at home in bed with laryngitis’ and I said, ‘Oh, is that Argonian bastard back in town again?’”

    The Blades erupted in laughter and, though the joke was off color, Aurelia smiled herself. Baurus slid an ale in her direction and grinned.

    “The Hero of Kvatch graces us with her presence!”

    She rolled her eyes and took a sip of the ale, “You’re awfully relaxed, considering the whole of Tamriel is on the brink of destruction.”

    “Yes, but what good is laying your life on the line if you don’t enjoy it?”

    Aurelia lifted her mug of ale and laughed, “I’ll drink to that.”

    She looked around the mead hall, searching for one face in particular. Jauffre was in a corner, with Martin. They looked to be in serious discussion. It was contrary to the rest of the room, the Blades that were feasting were jovial and seemed to be without care. But Aurelia knew the moment there was even a hint of danger or a concern was posed, they would be sharp as steel and alert. She turned her cup in her hands, looking at its contents move as she did so. After a moment amidst the others, she downed her ale and got up from her seat.

    “You off in the morning?” Baurus said and she nodded. He stood and walked over to where she stood, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Tar-Meena will have answers for us.”

    “I hope so. We cannot afford to waste any more time.”

    Martin had spotted her and was now on his way over. 

    “Do you mind if I borrow her?” he said, “We’ve some business to discuss.”

    Baurus bowed, “Of course. Aurelia. Let me know before you head off tomorrow,” he winked, “I have a gift for you, sort of.”

    “Looking at the empty casks of ale, I imagine I will be up far earlier than you will.”

    Baurus laughed and walked back to the others.

    Martin gestured to the door, “Walk with me.”

    Though it was evening, the Temple grounds were both well protected and well lit. Aurelia followed him. They walked in silence for a moment, Martin with his hands behind his back, looking at every tree, greeting every soldier with a charismatic ease, and she beside him ruminating on Mankar Camoran.

    “Baurus is right. Tar-Meena will have an answer for us,” Martin said confidently, as if he read her mind. “And you will find the shrine of the Mythic Dawn. I know that much.”

    “You sound very sure.”

    “I am,” Martin said, “I dreamt it.”

    Aurelia watched his face and saw no humor in it. He was serious. 

    “You’ve had more prophetic dreams.”

    “I have.”

    “Anything I should know?”

    Martin stopped, smiling at her, “One day you will. Not today.” He walked ahead, the same posture and focus on his surroundings. Aurelia did not appreciate his duplicity. For the first time, she truly felt that they were unequal. She had always known it, but never felt it. The weight of his partial divinity and the position he would soon hold lay on her shoulders like a leaden blanket. She did not follow him.

    “Was that it? That was the business we were to discuss?” she said, her tone more flat and stern than was perhaps appropriate.

    Martin stopped and looked at her, “No.”

    “Then I would appreciate your elaboration. I do have to finish my preparations for the morning. Unlike you,” she said cooly, “I cannot see my future and have to make due what what I have at hand, in the present.” She regretted it immediately, but did not apologize. It was not usual for her to lose her temperand she didn’t fully understand why she was angry with him. But to her surprise, Martin did not correct her. Instead, he stepped toward her with a compassionate smile.

    “The Divines choose what they will show me. But I choose when it is right to impart what I have learned. Trust me,” he encouraged, placing a hand on her shoulder, “one day, you will understand why I did not tell you now.”

    “Trust you,” Aurelia repeated, and he nodded. She sighed, “Alright.” She folded her arms across her chest, and Martin removed his hand. “What _did_ you need to discuss?”

    “Actually,” he smiled, “I enjoy your company, that was all I wanted. You will leave early tomorrow and not return for some time. There will not be many more chances for us to simply walk and talk to each other as we are doing now.”

    “You’re right. There won’t be.”

    They continued in silence for a time again, Martin observing the world around them and Aurelia slowly becoming more tense as the time passed. She tried to relax. He was right. They had become good friends, and when this was over, if she survived, his new place as sovereign of Tamriel would prohibit moments like this. His days would be filled with his duties as Emperor, and she would return to Kvatch to assist in its recovery. 

    “That’s a Northern Cardinal,” Martin mused, looking at one of the birds, “Strange that it would be here and at this time.”

    “I have seen far stranger things of late,” she sighed, “More surprising than birds.”

    Martin smirked, “Oh, while you were gone, I wrote up a comprehensive budget and resource allocation plan for the Kvatch recovery. If you could bring it to High Chancellor Ocato, I would appreciate it. Though I am not Emperor yet, I would hope he could see the merit in it and take action. It’s in the library.”

    She felt her heart beat faster, “You did?”

    “It’s imperative that your father has everything he needs.”

    Tears began to fill her eyes, “Thank you,” she breathed, smiling, “I-I mean, I know it was not done for my sake, its important to the Empire to repair—”

    “No, it was for your sake,” he said matter of factly. She stopped. He cleared his throat, “Yes, the repair of the city is imperative to the Empire, as well as the right thing to do and I would have done it regardless, Aura. But, primarily,” he smiled, briefly, “it was for you.”

    “My father calls me Aura,” she said softly. 

    “Would you prefer I did not use that name, then?”

    “No,” she said slowly, “I would prefer that you did. But I still don’t understand.”

    “It isn’t complicated. I thought of you for the same reason that you searched out information about my mother,” he said pointedly. Trapped in a kind of paralytics state, Aurelia searched his face and found very little. Though his expression was blank, his words were heavily laden with implication and she was struggling to decipher them. Her breathing shallowed as he met her gaze without apology. 

    “M’lady!”

    Aurelia did not realize how tense she had become until she startled at the slightest provocation. Ygritte was running towards her, eyes wild.

    “What is it, Ygritte?” she asked, concerned, but her mind still fixed on what Martin was thinking, or not thinking. The possibilities were daunting. 

    “Pardon me, sire, for interrupting,” Ygritte said, bowing her head quickly to Martin, “But, m’lady, some of the supplies you requested were not available,” she handed Aurelia a written list she had been given earlier. “They’ve run out of dried boar.”

    Aurelia relaxed, “I thought it was some emergency,” she chuckled and handed the list back to Ygritte. “Do they have any other dried meets?”

    “Yes, m’lady.”

    “Then, if permitted, pack those.”

    “Yes, m’lady,” she said, running back towards the kitchens. Aurelia watched, amused. 

    “Poor girl,” she mused, “So eager to please.”

    “She seems to dote on you.”

    Aurelia smiled and nodded, “Yes., she does. Thought I cannot imagine why.”

    “I can,” he said, with that informative tone as before. It did not seem to be a compliment, but rather a steady observation. 

    “Perhaps its best I leave tonight, rather than in the morning.”

    “Do you think that is wise?”

    She looked back at him and she felt as though a cord were tied between them, growing stronger over time, and more unlikely to snap as each day went by. As it strengthened, it would be more necessary to sever it violently herself, for it could not and would not seperate on its own. However, there was an aspect to this connection she had not thought about before. She had seen it as something she had created herself, that she must die to and she alone. The possibility that the struggle was a mutual burden to bear had not occurred to her. Evidence otherwise was presenting itself in not only his words, but in Martin’s expression. He was not looking at her as an Emperor looks upon a subject. His expression was more akin to fear.

    In her desire to repress her own growing affection, she failed to perceive his. And, if that was what was happening, then this was an entirely different battle. It was far easier to stifle love unreciprocated, to bury it and never face it again. But if it was reciprocated, and with equal passion, then refusing it became almost impossible. Men and women for hundreds of years, far stronger willed than she, had failed. They fell prey to the feelings that grow so steadily and so strongly that your own better judgement becomes second to them. Despite circumstance, duty, honor or war, they had grasped the chance they had to experience what so many would die for. Nations had burned to the ground for less. Uriel had discarded a lifelong dedication to his duty as Emperor for it. Aurelia knew that if she loved alone, it was manageable. Painful, but manageable. But if she was not alone in this, if the same feelings were present in him, then so much more could be lost. As painful as it would be to remain separate from him and to continually refuse what she wanted so desperately, it would be far more painful if they should fail Tamriel and she should fall to ruin. No. It was best to remain as they were, to not let it fester inside them and distract them from retrieving the Amulet and lighting the Dragonfires. 

    “Yes,” she said at last, “I think it would be very wise.”


	16. Belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia approaches Camoran's enlightenment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be adding chapters more regularly now!!

XVI

 

Aurelia left that evening, in the dark and more alone than she had felt since her mother had passed. Martin, with a torch in his hand, waited at the stable door to see her off. They said nothing to each other. She mounted Eidolon and rode to the end of the road. Before she spurred him on, she looked back. Martin stood, solumn and unmoving at the mouth of the Temple. Then, with that, she rode away and into the darkeness of the wild. Baurus had mentioned he wanted to give her something, but she couldn’t remain at the Temple for another moment. Right now, she needed to put as many miles between Martin and herself as possible. Her attentions must be entirely focused on Dagon. 

 

___________________________

 

    She rode through the night with as much speed as Eidolon could manage. They rested for only a moment, and continued toward the city. As she did, with the cold wind whipping past her face, she turned her thoughts from Martin to the faces of the dead. She tried to remember every broken body, every bloodied child that littered the streets. Her anger fueled her to ride harder. The Mythic Dawn would taste their own blood in their mouths before the end. She would plunge her blade straight through Camoran’s heart as it beat and he would feel the weight of judgement in her gaze as he died. Her mind would fix on the dead, the unavenged, and she would ensure their sacrifice was not in vain. 

    When she arrived in the city, she went straight for the Arcane University. She would need to find a courier that could be trusted as soon as possible to deliver the documents Martin provided to Chancellor Ocato, to ensure Kvatch’s restoration. Tar-Meena would probably have access to a discrete courier herself, one that could be considered secure. With the four volumes of the commentaries heavy in her satchel, she walked as quickly as she could toward the walled complex of the City Isle, where the Arcane University was centered. With her cowl over her head to conceal her singular red hair, she poised herself as casually as she could so not to attract attention. It had begun to rain.

    Aurelia ducked into the library and found Tar-Meena poised, as she usually was, over a large tome. Her dry, often unamused Argonian face was riddled with excitement when she saw her. Aurelia removed her cowl and followed Tar-Meena to a one of the private rooms within the Arcanum itself. 

    “Am I safe to assume you have information for me?” she said, her voice hushed.

    Tar-Meena nodded, emphatically. 

    “I turned up copies of the first two volumes from my colleagues, and I spent a little time rereading them. Mankar Camoran certainly is a fascinating writer. Undoubtedly insane, but fascinating. I think—“

    “Respectfully, this is time sensitive, Tar-Meena,” Aurelia nudged. 

   “Ah, yes,” the old Argonian said, “To the point, to the point. It appears to me that the first words of each paragraph may be significant. A message may be hidden there. The first words are the key, I am sure of it.”

    “Did yo decipher the message?”

    “Yes,” Tar-Meena said, grabbing at a rolled up piece of parchment in her robe pocket, “Here, I wrote it down for you. ‘Green Emperor Way Where Tower Touches Midday Sun” — are you familiar with Green Emperor Way?”

    “Yes, the gardens around the Imperial Palace.”

    “Something must be revealed there at midday.”

    “Then we have very little time,” Aurelia rushed, “It it almost midday now.” She was suddenly very grateful that she had left the night before, rather than the morning. It would have been a guarantee that this moment would have been lost to her. Opening her satchel, Aurelia took out the documents that Martin had given her. “Do you have a messenger, anyone, that you feel you can trust completely? This is of dire importance.” 

    Tar-Meena nodded, “Yes. My nephew, he often delivers my most private messages. He is a kind boy, but slow. He cannot read.” 

    “Good. Give these to him, they are to be delivered to Chancellor Ocato immediately.”

    “What is he cannot see the Chancellor?”

    “Give him my name. Aurelia Matius. The Chancellor will not refuse him.”

    Aurelia handed Tar-Meena the documents and began to walk toward the door when she stopped herself. “Tar-Meena,” she paused, “I suppose its very likely that this path to enlightment, as you called it, will lead me to danger.”

    “Yes,” Tar-Meena said, her voice serious and direct, “Count it a guarentee.”

    Aurelia stopped for a moment, debating silently, her brows knotted together. They were losing time, and quickly. She could not afford to wait for the time it would take to deliver a message to Cloud Ruler Temple and for resources to come. There was no one they could trust within the city walls either. This was their only chance, they no longer had the luxury of time. It had been too long already. No. She would need to go, alone. 

    Aurelia took out another piece of parchment and searched the room for a quill. Her head bowed low over it, she furiously began to write, her heart quickened and violent in its beat as she began to fill with fear:

 

> _ Martin,  _
> 
> _ Forgive me. But I could not risk, for even a moment, the Mythic Dawn gaining an upper hand. I had to make a choice.Through the Commentaries, we found a gateway to Mankar Camoran’s path of enlightenment. By the time you will recieve this, I have made my way there, and do not know what I will find. Send Baurus and the Blades to the City immediately. Find Tar-Meena. She will show them the Gateway. If I am dead, please send my remains to my father. He may decide where they rest. _
> 
>  

    Aurelia stopped, unsure of how to proceed. There was so much more, buried deep inside her, that she wanted to drown the parchment in it. What she had written were undoubtably the words of a soldier, dedicated and sure and without regret. But another letter, penned only in her mind, spoke so differently. She felt like she was choking on all the things left unsaid. Despite herself, there was a part of her that could not live with that. It could not die with that. She wrote, quickly:

 

> _ An oath sworn in blood is not easily discarded, but more potent still is my belief in you. Know this. I would not die for an Emperor. But I would die for you.  _
> 
>  

    Aurelia rolled it up, tightly, and shoved it at Tar-Meena, “Direct your nephew to Cloud Ruler Temple. He will need to take a horse here—” she took out her map and shoved aside the books on a nearby table and spread it out. With her quill, she marked the Temple’s location. “He must go alone, and give them my name at the Gate. If he does not, he will not survive. Is this clear? Can he handle this?”

    “Yes,” Tar-Meena nodded, “He’s slow in speech and mind but hearty, and good on horseback. He has a good memory, he will know what to do. What about the note to the Chancellor?”

    "This is more important. That can be done upon his return."

    "He won't fail you, he's a good boy."

    Aurelia smiled, briefly, “Thank you,” she breathed and again, walked toward the door. She put on her cowl and stopped, “When he reaches the Temple—“ she said, “— tell him to burn the map.” With that, she quitted the library and, like a shadow in the deep hours of the night, she made her way to the gardens.

 

_________________________________

 

    Martin stood with his eyes trained on the white mountain peaks that surrounded the Temple, and Bruma’s outlands. His hands were poised behind his back, and his breathing steady and reserved. That night, he had experienced a new kind of dream. It was unclear, as the dreams he had known in his boyhood. But it was shrouded in a sense of dread that he could not explain. That morning, he had prayed about it. But the Gods were silent, as they were wont to be. 

    Aurelia had left two nights ago, and with her went his sense of foundation. Without her, the settling of his soul was left bereft of an anchor. He floated about, unsure and without a sense of direction. The weight of the burden willed to him by his father grew heavier, and his own fears grow louder in their screams of inadequacy and impending failure. But this was a new sensation, a new foreboding. It was not the usual anxiety that accompanied her absence. 

    Baurus, approaching behind him, inquired,  “Sire, are you alright?”

    Martin looked at him vaguely, but heard the sounds of shouts from below. He glanced down, and that same sickly foreboding overcame him.

    “Something’s wrong,” he muttered. 

    Then, he heard the gatekeeper shout at the groundsmen, and the heavy wooden gates of the Temple Court were opened. A young Argonian boy rode in, holding out a hand firmly closed over what looked to be a small, dirty scroll. The was practically falling off the horse. He jumped off and thrust the scroll at them. A captain barked orders and the boy threw up his hands and fell to the ground, surrendering himself.

    “M-Matius!” he cried with a heavy tongue and a child-like fear, “From Matius!”

    And with that, Martin ran to the courtyard. Baurus trailed behind him, keeping pace. He approached the Captain with an authority he did not know he had.

    “Give it to me,” he commanded and the Captain did so.

    Martin unrolled it and searched its contents. The mountains were cold, but they were not the cause of ice that began to slink its way up his spine and splitter in his heart. Baurus looked at him, concerned.

    “Sire?”

    “Horses, Baurus,” Martin barked, “Saddle them _now_.”

 


	17. Dawn Is Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia encounters Mankar Camoran.

XVII

    The Gateway was in fact, a large ceremonial column. It was similar to those that marked the crypt doors underneath the gardens. On its face, was the sun sigil of the Mythic Dawn. Aurelia scanned it, unsure of how to proceed. It was not quite midday, but the sun was beginning to pour out its warmth onto the gravestones and the silent dead that lay beneath her. A cloud moved, and light began to flood onto the ceremonial column’s face, illuminating the sigil. Aurelia found herself disturbed by the fact that it almost seemed to glow. The column itself was structured like any other gateway to a crypt. It had a door. Aurelia looked around her, ensuring that she was unseen and unknown, and opened the crypt door. It flowed down to what seemed to be an underground tunnel. As quietly as she could, Aurelia closed the door behind her and proceeded down the pathway.

    It was dank and the walls were swollen with moist dirt as she walked. Fear gripped at her heart and weighed down her chest, but she walked nonetheless. As she had no light, and dared not light a torch, her fear was fueled evermore by the unknown. It must not have been very long that she walked, but she could almost feel the seconds elongate into hours.

    Then, there was a burst of light. Small and flickering, but there. It looked to be a torch mounted on the wall. As she got closer, she saw a distinctive red banner held fast to the tunnel side. Beside it, there was a man. Though cloaked in the blood red Mythic Dawn robes, his eyes peered at her from beneath his cowl. She stiffened. There was no retrogress now. She could only go forward, and approach him. As she grew closer, he spoke. 

    “Dawn is breaking,” he said, his voice thick and deep. 

    This was a phrase found scattered among all of Camoran’s works. And its reply was equally dispersed. Tar-Meena had schooled her on the expected etiquette of a cult initiate.

   “Greet the new day,” Aurelia replied, as confidently as she could. 

    The man slightly relaxed, and a smiled creeped up his lips, “Welcome, sister,” he said. “The hour is late, but the Master still has need for willing hands. You may pass into the Shrine.Harrow will take you to the Master for your initiation into the service of Lord Dagon. Do not tarry, the time of Preparation is almost over. The time of Cleansing is near.”

    The man then opened an old, wooden door nestled deep into the rock of the tunnel wall. It creaked as he did so, and he gestured for Aurelia to pass through it. She did so, and came upon another tunnel. The door closed behind her, and her body tensed. She continued down the tunnel walkway, toward another light that lay at its end. The cavern reeked of death and skeevers and moistened stone. A Dark Elf stood at the far end of the tunnel, tall, with raised brows and an altogether different demeanor than the man before. 

    “I am Harrow,” he said, his voice cool and almost musical in its precision, “warden of the Shrine of Dagon. By following the Path of Dawn hidden in the writings of the Master, You have earned your place among the Chosen. In fact,” he smiled, briefly, “you have arrived at a most opportune time. You may have the honor to be initiated by the Master himself.”

    Aurelia’s lungs seemed to give out, as she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. _Mankar Camoran was here, now._ Though her faith was not what it used to be, she silently uttered a prayer of thanks to whoever god was responsible for this.

    “As a member of the Order of the Mythic Dawn,” Harrow continued, “everything you need will be provided by the Master from his bounty. Give me your possessions, now, and put on the initiate’s robes.”

    “What?”

    Harrow darkened, “Your life, your possessions, your eternal loyalty must be securely binded to the Master and to Lord Dagon’s will. You no longer need what you carry.”

    What Aurelia carried were items so dear to her that the possibility of ever being without them had not occurred. She felt sick, suddenly, at the prospect of losing them. But, more than that, she would be stripped of any potential security. No weapons, no armor. Nothing to shield her should something go wrong. It did not matter. All the mattered now, was that they retrieve the Amulet of Kings. That was her sole aim. But, Aurelia did have a small dagger strapped to her calf, under her boot. This would have to suffice. 

    Aurelia, though shaken, began to strip her weapons. Her bow, beloved and unique, her daggers and her quiver, were handed to Harrow. He gestured to a pile of the blood red robes she had seen on all other initiates that lay on a table beside them. She looked around the dimly lit tunnel. There was nowhere to change. She looked to Harrow and he lifted a brow.

    “Well?”

    “Where—” Aurelia swallowed, “Where do I change?”

    “Here.”

    “I don’t understand.”

    Harrow was not only impatient, he was offended.

    “Modesty is not a virtue for Lord Dagon. Unless you have something to hide?”

    Aurelia shook her head. There would be no way to sneak the dagger in her boot now. It would be fully exposed when she undressed. Aurelia assumed that when she began, Harrow would look away. He did not. He almost focused on her. 

    As she stripped down, she held back the ever-growing urge to vomit. She removed her boots, her grieves, her cuirass and the linen beneath it, alongside her dagger. Now naked, cold and invaded, she looked up at Harrow. He did not blink. But he did not watch her with any kind of masculine interest or with that same sickening grin that had been burned into her memory when her dignity was ripped away from her, aside the river, under the bridge, where a part of her innocence crumbled away. No, his look was different. It was like a cat observing a mouse. Quietly, but with great interest. It horrified her. 

    Aurelia put on the robes and held back a shiver. 

    “Very good,” Harrow said, promptly, “Follow me. I will take you to the Shrine.”

    Aurelia obeyed, and they walked through another rotting door. They opened it to a large, stone-lined cavern. Mythic Dawn banners were dangling aloft, and a cool white light spilled into the center of the stone floor. She could hear a voice, echoing in the great hall. 

    She opened her mouth to inquire and Harrow shushed her.

    “The Master is speaking!” he snapped. They walked very quickly now towards the source of the voice, and proceeded down stone steps toward and open area with what looked to be an altar at its center. A man stood there, shielded by shadow.Aurelia could not yet make him out. As they approached, she could hear his words clearly and she began to see his form. He was wearing the Amulet of Kings around his neck.

    “The Dragon Throne is empty, and we hold the Amulet of Kings! Praise be to your Brothers and Sisters! Great shall be their reward in Paradise!” 

    Now they were amidst the crowd of other cult members, their eyes trained on their Master and prophet of paradise. 

    “Now hear the words of Lord Dagon,” Camoran said, “‘When I walked the earth again, the Faithful among you shall recieve your reward: to be set above all other Mortals forever. As for the rest: the weak shall be winnowed, the timid shall be cast down: the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon…”

    Aurelia’s vision began to dim, and her heart beat faster. These were words she had heard before, when she fell at Cloud Ruler temple. When she tasted the cold, emptiness of the dark. All around her, the cult members responded to Camoran in kind:

    “So sayeth Lord Dagon. Praise be.”

    Camoran continued. 

    “Your reward, Brothers and Sisters,” he said passionately, “the time of Cleansing draws nigh. I go now to Paradise. I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn!” 

_No._

    And with that, Camoran was enveloped in light. With a sudden flash, and a soundless explosion of color, he was gone. His robes fell to the earth where he had stood. Aurelia could not breathe. The cavern walls began to spin and warp around her. The Amulet was gone, to gods know where. And she was left alone, surrounded by the Mythic Dawn. 

    Her mind raced and she tried to steady herself. She looked around the Hall. Upon the altar was a thick, ancient tome. Camoran was reading from it before.

_The Mysterium Xarxes._

    This was now their only chance to retrieve the Amulet. 

    Harrow had begun to speak into the crowd of cult members. Aurelia counted to herself. There were eleven of them in total. With her weapons, they would be too many. Without her weapons, she would be slaughtered. All she could do now is remain covert. 

    “We have a new Sister who wishes to bind herself to the service of Lord Dagon,” Harrow announced, “Advance, initiate!”

    Aurelia approached the alter, where the book lay. She saw now that next to it was a bound Argonian male, unable to move and utterly afraid. 

_Oh, Gods._

    A woman now addressed her.

    “You have come to dedicate yourself to Lord Dagon’s service,” she said, openly excited, like a child about to receive a gift, “This pact must be sealed with red-drink, the blood of Lord Dagon’s enemies. Take up the dagger and offer Lord Dagon the sacrificial red-drink as a pledge of your own life’s blood, which shall be his in the end.” The woman handed Aurelia a silver dagger and cried out, “Lord Dagon thirsts for red-drink! Sate him!” 

    “Sate him, sate him, sate him!” the other cultists cried out. 

    Aurelia saw the Xarxes, sitting to her left, and approached the bound Argonian. His eyes were wide with fear. The screams of the cultists behind her wear deafening and the woman’s face was plastered with violent anticipation. 

    There would be two options. She could try to run, grab the book and head as fast as she could to the tunnel they entered from. But she knew that she would never find her way back to the Gateway alone, and not if she was pursued by the Dawn. No. Her only chance now, the only chance Martin had, was to obliterate the members that were her. When they came with the Blades, they would find the book littered among the bodies, her own included. In her right hand, she had the dagger. But around her were the banners, dangling from the cavern ceiling. And close to those banners, were lit flames. In a sigh of resignation to her fate, Aurelia prepared for her death. If she was to die, she would do so in a glorious fashion. 

    She raised her right arm, with the dagger in hand, and with a single flash of steel she cut the bindings of the Argonian, and turned on her heel and charged at the woman with the blade, burying it deep into her innards. The blood pooled and the woman screamed, her rage almost demonic. The Argonian, now freed, lept from the altar and began to claw at the nearest cult member, thrusting his claws into their eyes. 

    “Die, unbeliever!” a cultist screamed and charged at her. Aurelia grabbed at the banner and hoisted herself over his head. She ripped off a piece of its base and ran it across the nearest flame. As it began to catch fire, she wrapped it around the cultist’s neck and his robes began to burn. He screamed, and began to convulse and roll about the ground the extinguish the flames. As he did so, Aurelia thrust her dagger into his bag, penetrating his heart. 

    The Argonian was fending off two cultists to her left, and in front of her, seven more began to charge. Yes, she would die. 

_     But she would drag the bastards down with her. _


	18. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia heals, and Martin chastises.

XVIII

 

    “Martin, with all due respect, that is entirely out of the question. Be reasonable.”

    Jauffre’s hands were anchored to the desk, and his gaze did not falter. Martin stood opposite him, his own gaze unwavering, and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

    “And with all due respect, Jauffre, truly—” Martin softened, slightly, and cleared his throat, “—this was not a request. It was a command. I have no desire to quarrel with you, your wisdom is of great value to me. But Baurus and the others don’t have the knowledge and experience to know how to counter daedric magic. I do. Should they come across it, they will be unprepared and unsuccessful. They will need more than what steel can offer them.”

    Jauffre was quiet, and he rubbed his eyes with aged fingers, “If that is the case,” he said after a moment, “then I will go.” Martin opened his mouth to speak and Jauffre silenced him with a glance, “My life is not nearly as significant as yours. Should there be death awaiting us, then it cannot be your death. Your blood is precious.” Jauffre took in a deep breath and his voice lowered, “Martin, please. If you do not see my logic, then you may need to reevaluate your motivations,” he said pointedly. 

    Martin stiffened. For a moment, he had nothing to say in response. Jauffre’s look was one of a concerned father, rather than an advisor. There was even something like pity lying beneath his countenance. Martin walked to the window of Jauffre’s quarters. Outside, Baurus and the Blades they had selected for the journey were hastily preparing the horses and their weaponry, heavily armored and focused on the task at hand. 

    “Jauffre” Martin sighed, his back turned to the old man now, “Bring her back alive.”

    Jauffre put a hand on Martin’s shoulder, “I will do my best, sire,” he said softly, and left Martin alone in the silence that followed. 

 

_________________________________

 

    Blood pooled in the stone steps below the altar, and around this pinnacle of sacrifice, bodies were strewn about like rag dolls. A cultist, his life drawing to a close, was screaming. His innards were stretched out on the ground beside him, and with each scream, death came closer. But not soon enough. Aurelia, limp and nestled against a stone pillar, was holding her own stomach. Her right arm was unusable, and lay numb at her side. Her left arm held firm to her wound, staunching the blood flow. The man continued to scream.

    With all her might, she crawled to where the man was lying and, with great effort, stood beside him, looking down at his contorted, blood-stained face. When he saw her, his eyes filled with a new fear. 

    “Please,” he croaked, his throat thick with blood that spilled over the sides of his mouth, “Send me to Paradise. _The pain. Please._ ”

    Aurelia, despite her pain, smiled cruelly. 

    “No,” she whispered, and limped away. 

    Aurelia made it as far as the tunnel entrance before she collapsed under the weight of her own frailty. Her breathing was ragged and her lungs could scarcely fill themselves. Surrounded by air, she felt she was drowning. Her fingers clutched the Xarxes, and her vision began to darken at the edges and shadows crept over her eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw the flicker of lights in the distance. But then, darkness overcame her. 

 

_________________________________

 

    There was the darkness, and then there was the light. And, almost as quickly as it came, the light diminished. Screams. Men shouting. Echoes in the rock. And suddenly, the sounds of water and it rushed over pebbles and stones and sand. There was a child, laughing, crying out in joyful ecstasy and it chased something down a grassy hill. The image began more clear and the screams began to die away. The child was a girl, small and scrawny and pale, with red hair that flamed behind her as she ran. A woman stood watching her, a warm smile. Proud and sure and alive. Suddenly, the woman turned. She looked away from the girl, and her face was ravaged with death and decay. She smiled, sadly. She held out her hand.And the screams were heard again. 

    Aurelia woke. 

    Her eyes were heavy, and she could not feel her body. All around her was white light, which slowly gave way to familiar shapes and sounds. Her tongue was thick and heavy and her arms were held fast beside her. She tried to move, but she could not. There was no strength in her muscles, so stamina in her soul. 

    “You’re making a habit of this, hero,” a voice mused. Aurelia blinked and saw Baurus, leaning against the back wall, a smirk plastered on his face. “I won’t pretend I am not happy to see you’ve somehow survived, though.” Aurelia began to stir and Baurus chided her, “Ah. No. Don’t move a damn inch. Rest. Take it easy. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

    “I thought I had died,” Aurelia said slowly, with great effort.

    “So did I,” Baurus chuckled, and sat down next to her. “We found you, covered in your own blood and the blood of a dozen others, clutching the Xarxes and barely clinging to life. You weren’t conscious, but somehow you were alive. We didn’t think you would make it back here, to be honest with you.” 

    “Where am I?” Aurelia croaked.

    “We kept you at Chancellor Ocato’s for two days, tended to your wounds, let you sleep. When you had healed enough that we felt you could make the journey, we ushered you back here. To the Temple.” 

     “I don’t remember that.”

    “You rarely woke, and when you did you spoke nonsense. We used a covered carriage and came back to the Temple on the Emperor’s road, less bumpy.”

     Aurelia smirked, “Thank you.”

    “Only the best for our little hero,” Baurus winked. 

    “Did you—“

    “Eidolon is here, he’s fine.”

    “Thank you,” Aurelia breathed, “The Xarxes. You have it then?”

    “Yes, thanks to you. Martin is pouring over it now. Speaking of, I should tell him you’re awake—” Baurus moved to leave and Aurelia stopped him.

    “No, don’t do that.”

    “He’ll want to check on you, make sure everything is healing properly.”

    “Not now, please. I—” Aurelia stopped, “I just need to rest.”

    “Alright,” Baurus nodded, “But he will want to see you.” Aurelia said nothing. She was suddenly very tired. Baurus paused at the doorway before he left her. “For what its worth, kid,” he said softly, “I’m not a praying man, not really. Since all this began, I am starting to be. We all prayed for you to pull through. Martin prayed through the night. I don’t think he’s slept in two days. Despite what you may think, the Gods have their eye on you.”

    Baurus left her alone and Aurelia closed her eyes.

    “Do they,” she murmured to herself, and sleep found her again.

 

___________________________

 

    When she woke again, it was dark outside her window. The sunshine no longer gently filtered in and warmed her. The fireplace was lit and candles were poised on the end tables beside her. As she slept, Aurelia dreamt again of her mother. More often than not, her mother found her in her dreams. And in every dream, she was touched with death. It did not matter how the dream started, it always ended the same. It left her in the dark and filled with regret.

    Aurelia slowly pulled herself up and leaned against the back of the bed. Her right arm was bandaged and stiff, but her left was working fine. As she was right handed, this would prove a problem in the future. But for now, all she could think about was the feeling of dry cotton in her mouth. She needed water. 

    Ygritte, perfectly timed, walked into her chamber with a basin of water for cleaning.

    “You’re awake, m’lady!” she said, her eyes wide.

    Aurelia smiled, “Yes. Awake, if only for the moment,” she coughed.

    “Let me fetch you a pitcher of water,” Ygritte said, and Aurelia nodded thankfully.

    Ygritte returned with the water and helped Aurelia to sip at it, slowly. 

    “There you go,” Ygritte coaxed, “Not too quickly now.”

    When she finished, Ygritte took her hand, “I feared you’d never wake up.”

    “I didn’t think I would,” Aurelia said flatly. 

    “But you did. It’s a miracle, it is,” Ygritte’s eyes filled with tears and she brushed a hair from Aurelia’s face, “A real miracle, I think.” With a sigh, Aurelia leaned back against the pillows and Ygritte pulled the covers over her. “You sleep now, m’lady. You sleep now.”

    And she did. 

 

___________________________

 

    It took another two days of drifting in and out of consciousness, but eventually Aurelia’s strength returned and she was able to stand. Ygritte walked with her down the hall across from her chamber to bathe and remove her bandages. Her right arm was healing well, and though it was still stiff and painful to move, it could move, and that was the most important thing. After she bathed and Ygritte brushed her hair and wrapped her in a robe, Aurelia dismissed her. Ygritte hesitantly obeyed and left her alone in her room. 

    She observed herself in the glass that sat in the corner of her chamber and was alarmed at what she saw. Her body was covered in contusions and slowly healing knife wounds and her face was heavily bruised. If ever she doubted that she was a soldier, she truly looked it now. But, suddenly, her door opened and Aurelia turned toward the intrusion. Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly felt very warm. 

    Martin stood at the doorway, and for a moment, neither of them disturbed the heavy silence. They just looked at each other, each one’s breathing slow and measured. Then, with speed and without warning, Martin closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. He tightened his embrace and Aurelia hissed. He loosened his hold.

    “I’m sorry,” he chuckled, but did not release her. Aurelia was stiff in his arms, but then softened. But, after some seconds had passed, she cleared her throat and he finally let her go, though his hands remained on her shoulders. 

    “I don’t know if you’re aware of this,” Martin chided, “but you’re no good to me if you’re dead. You do know that, don’t you?” 

    Aurelia smiled, “I am aware.”

    Martin looked at her, studying her face, his own expression riddled with both concern and somehow, amusement. His eyes met hers. 

    “What?” Aurelia asked, guarded.

    “You really do look terrible.”

    “Thank you,” Aurelia clipped and stepped away from him, busying her bands at the fire. She added some tinder to it and stoked it in silence. 

    “I am disappointed in you, to be frank,” Martin said at last.

    Aurelia’s gaze remained on the fire. 

    “And why would that be?”

    “You’re courageous, but reckless. I would think you had more sense.” 

    She stood, and brushed the dust from the floor off herself, “If I had more sense, as you see it, we would have no idea where the Amulet of Kings is now. And we would not have the means to recover it,” she said flatly. She walked past him and poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher that Ygritte had left her. “But we do.”

    “Yes, but it was incredibly unlikely that you would survive,” Martin stated.

    “I know.”

    Martin rubbed his eyes, “I’ve only been truly, _truly_ afraid twice in my life,” he sighed, “When Kvatch was burning and I believed that we were abandoned to the fires of Oblivion—” he looked at her, “—and when that boy brought your letter.”

    Aurelia stared at her glass. Her mouth had gone dry again but she could not move.

    “Aura,” Martin said softly, “You’re the only true friend I have.” She flexed her fist. He continued, “We said that when all else failed, we could trust each other.” She looked at him and he prodded gently, “I know that you would die for me, your loyalty to the Empire is very apparent. But your death gains us very little. Your life is more valuable.”

    “Are you reprimanding me?” 

    “Yes,” Martin smirked, “In a way.”

    Aurelia leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, “I’ll consider myself chastised, then,” she quipped. Despite herself, she let down a bit of the wall she had built so tirelessly over the past couple of weeks. “I’m not loyal to the Empire, you know,” she murmured, and looked up at him. “Just you.” 

    He looked at her again, studying her face. But he was interrupted with a knock on the door. Jauffre stepped into the room, bowing his head slightly.

    “Excuse me, Martin,” he said, “but there is a messenger here from the Countess of Bruma. The letter he said was for you, specifically. He would not give it to anyone else.”

    Martin nodded at him, and with a passing glance at Aurelia, he quitted the room. Jauffre followed him, but before he did he glanced over at her. She could not decipher the look on his face, but for some reason, it struck her as pity. 

 

 

 


	19. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jauffre shares some wisdom with Aurelia.

XIX

    Though Martin himself would never say it was so, his grasp of diplomacy was impressive. In the time that he had spent at the Temple, he had gained the loyalty of the Countess and allies within the Imperial City. Messengers were starting to come regularly, now, from the aristocracy of Tamriel and those who might swear allegiance when the time came. Aurelia watched, always from afar, as he consulted with Jauffre and more often in not, their conversations would end behind closed doors. It only further reminded her of the ever-widening chasm of class between them. Even in the mead hall at the end of the day, he would no longer drink and dine with the other soldiers. He was always tucked away, in the library, reading.

    Aurelia was growing impatient. There had been little communication with her regarding the Mysterium Xarxes and their next steps. It had been four days since she had been returned to the Temple, and she was anxious to progress.

    But, midmorning on the fifth day, while she was outside in the training yard working to strengthen her waning right arm, Jauffre approached her.

    “Martin asked for you,” he said, “He’s in the library.”

    “Did he say what he want?”  Jauffre raised a brow and Aurelia frowned, "Alright then."

    Martin was sitting in a large chair, his fingers tented in front of his face. His eyes were trained on the open pages of the Mysterium Xarxes. Aurelia noticed how exhausted he looked. His normally bright eyes looked almost sunken in, and his hair was disheveled and unkempt.

    “You asked for me?” she prodded and he broke from his mediatory state and glanced up at her. He smiled, but it was a tired smile, lacking vivacity.

    “Yes,” he said, “I did.”

    Aurelia walked over to where he sat and glanced at the book over his shoulder, but Martin shut it quickly, startling her.

    “Forgive me,” he stood, “This book is dangerous even to handle.”

    “But you’ve been steeped in it for days,” Aurelia countered.

    Martin nodded, “Yes. I know ways to protect myself from its power. You don’t.”

“Can it lead us to Camoran?”

    “I don’t know,” Martin said, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe.” He walked over to the window and looked over the courtyard. “I  _suspect_  that the secret of how to open a portal to Camoran’s Paradise lies within the pages. But I will need time. Tampering with dark secrets, even just reading them, can be very dangerous. I will have to proceed carefully,” he said, almost to himself.

    Aurelia was starting to grow concerned.

    “Dangerous,” she repeated, but he did not answer her. His thoughts were far away. Aurelia walked over to where he stood and looked at him. “Martin?” she asked, and placed a hand on his arm. His eyes, almost glazed over, slowly slid from where they rested and found her own. For the first time, she did not see him looking back at her. The life behind his gaze was dimmed. She placed a hand on his face and spoke again.

   “Martin.”

  At the sound of her voice, his eyes seemed to clear, and he was again in the room with her. He sighed, and she removed her hand, surprised at herself. Her concern had outweighed her reserve. It was becoming more frequent and less within her ability to control as time went on.

   “Where did you go?” she asked, quietly.

    “I don’t know,” Martin breathed, “I always seem to get lost in libraries.”

    “Family trait,” Aurelia smiled.

    “Hmm,” he murmured. He looked so tired.

    “Why don’t you take a walk with me?” she asked, “I think you need to remove yourself for awhile, gather some clarity. See something tangible. And perhaps something to eat.”

    He nodded, “I think you’re right.”

 

___________________________

 

    Jauffre stood on the Temple balcony, overseeing the courtyard and the stables. Down below, Baurus worked through some training exercises with other Blades, and behind him the horses grazed on the grassy patch where they were fenced. And, far to the left, where the Temple gardens met the stables, Aurelia and Martin were walking and deep in conversation. Jauffre watched them with interest.

 

___________________________

 

    “I think,” Baurus called into the hall, a tankard of ale in his hand, “that a toast for our fellow Bladeswoman is in order. Considering that she appears to have a death wish, some encouragement might lift her spirits.” The other Blades laughed and Baurus waited for their chatter to die down before he continued. Aurelia set next to him, an embarrassed smile frozen on her face and her head in her hands. Baurus grabbed at her arm and forced her to stand and face the other soldiers, his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, kid,” he winked. He raised his ale, “Brothers and sisters, to Aurelia! She lost the Amulet of Kings, but at least she brought back some damned old book!”

    The other Blades cheered, laughed and drank. Aurelia sank back into her seat. Baurus was truly a marvel. Despite all his misfortune, and the world burning around him, he found a way to laugh. Not many could do the same.

    “By the way,” he nudged her, “I still have that gift for you.”

    Aurelia raised her brow, “Oh?”

    “Come with me, I’ll show you.”

    They left the others drinking and dining, the hall filled with their mirth. Baurus brought her to the armory, under the Blades’ barracks. He opened a chest in the back corner, and pulled out a rolled up piece of purple cloth. Aurelia took it from him and unrolled it. It was a small banner, with Kvatch’s sigil on its front. But, it was changed. Before, the sigil was merely a wolf, but now the wolf was surrounded by a white tree.

    “The last time the messenger came, I asked him to bring one back. Your father’s leadership is well received, it seems. Not surprisingly. The council voted to introduce your family sigil. It was an unprecedented move on their part.”

    Aurelia traced the branches of the tree with her finger, and it pained her in a way she did not expect. She was suddenly seized with a desire to return to the arms of her father.

    “He can’t do it on his own,” she murmured, her eyes filling with tears.

    “No. He can’t. But he won’t be alone, when this is all over,” Baurus smiled, “Just wanted to remind you, next time you go charging needlessly into chaos. I attended council meetings, years ago, on Jauffre’s behalf. Your father was there and he was fiercely respected. I imagine that he will restore the city to surpass its former glory.”

    “Baurus,” Aurelia corrected, “my decision was measured. It was not needless.”

    “Regardless, kid. Don’t forget the old man.”

    Aurelia smiled and held the banner close, “Thank you.”

    “Glad you like it,” he said, and threw an arm around her shoulders, “Now let’s get back to drinking before the world ends, shall we?”

 

___________________________

 

    Aurelia sat, cross-legged and pensive, staring at the sigil marked on the banner. The library was empty, and quiet. The mead hall was still filled with soldiers, and she excused herself as soon as she and Baurus returned. It was not an environment she often thrived in.

    “Ah, there you are,” a familiar voice called behind her. Jauffre smiled at her and she stood. “No need, please.” Aurelia sat back down, and Jauffre sat across from her, “How are you feeling?” he asked, his concern genuine.

    “I am not fully recovered but I can manage.”

    “Good. There has been talk, some possible spies in Bruma. I want you to speak with Baurus about it tomorrow, I am sending him and some other captains into the city to deal with the threat. They need to be able to identify Mythic Dawn agents without threatening any surrounding civilians. They’ll need to know any visible identifiers.”

    “Why are you sending them? I should go,” Aurelia frowned.

    “No, I would like you to remain here for the time being.”

    “I can manage, I told you.”

    “I have my reasons,” he said, dismissively.

    “As you wish, then,” Aurelia conceded.

    “Did I ever tell you,” Jauffre murmured, “that I met your mother?”

    This was not something Aurelia expected. After her initial surprise, she felt her throat begin to constrict, and a familiar lump began to form. She willed it down and kept the tears that threatened to overspill at bay. She did not dare to speak, she only shook her head. Jauffre smiled at her, warmly and with a gentleness that only an elder could offer.

    “I have been a priest my entire adult life, and a Blade nearly as long,” he began, “I never had a family, no wife, no children. It has always been a source of sadness for me, and I imagine it always will be. But I accepted that as a consequence of my decision to devote my life to both Akatosh and his servants.” He studied Aurelia’s expression for a moment. Whatever he found there encouraged him to continue. “But my sister, Freda, had a daughter. She wed a merchant in Bruma, some thirty years ago, and relocated there. When my niece was born, I felt it was the Gods’ grace. Though I could not have children of my own, the joy they brought with them was still manifested in my life through my niece. She was a small child when Bruma fell to sickness and it overwhelmed the town.”

    Aurelia looked at her hands for a moment but willed herself to meet Jauffre’s gaze. When he appeared to ascertain that she felt comfortable to continue, he did so. She silently thanked him for his consideration of her own distress. Even in the chaotic remains of the former Empire, and the bleak future they fought, he remained at his core a kind man.

    “The city was quarantined, as you know well, and resources were scarce. When my sister and her child fell ill, I felt I had no choice but to come to Bruma. The risk of sickness did not concern me. Love wills us forward despite all odds, doesn’t it?” he smiled at her, and Aurelia could not help but smile herself at the innocent optimism in his countenance. “It was in the bleakest hour, when we believed we would lose her, that your mother came to our aid. She told us about her own daughter, keep my sister and my niece awake and hopeful with stories. It was because of her that they survived. The consequence of their survival was that she did not.”

    Aurelia was quiet, “I would like to meet your niece one day,” she said at last.

    Jauffre put a hand on hers and smiled, “You already have. Her name is Ygritte. When her mother died, I brought her here to keep her safe and give her a vocation. I very much doubt she remembers your mother’s name or her face, but I know she remembers that her kindness saved her life. Sometimes I wonder if Ygritte took to you so quickly because you are so very much like your mother. Perhaps some part of her remembers, deep down.”

    The tears spilt over now. “Jauffre,” she whispered, “Why are you telling me this?”

    “Because I want you to understand that  _it is no bad thing to follow your heart_. But that does not spare you the consequences of what you decide. Your mother followed her heart and saved many, like Ygritte. But the consequence of her actions was her death. I followed my heart and entered the priesthood, but the consequence of that was I would never know the love of a wife and child. Those consequences can be good and bad in tandem. Uriel followed his heart and fell in love with a woman he could never truly have. That woman bore a son, and it took her life. The consequence of that sacrifice is hope for us now.” Jauffre took both her hands in his now and leaned into her, “It is no bad thing to follow your heart if you can bear the consequences.  _If_  you can bear them. Whatever they may be.” He put an aged finger under her chin, so she could look into his face. There was no condemnation there, but there was a deep sadness she did not understand. “There will always be consequences, Aurelia. All I ask is that you remember that.” With that, he stood and quitted the library. Jauffre paused at the doorway and looked toward the mead hall, where there was joy and frivolity and ignorance. “The reality of Martin’s birth is that he no longer has the luxury of choice,” he said, almost to himself.“Everything he does affects the whole of the Empire now. He may not understand that yet. But—” Jauffre turned to look back at her, “I hope that you do.” And with that, he left her.

    Aurelia sat in the library, alone and silent, until the quiet of the evening overtook the hall. Until the fire died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be adding regular chapters this week, and then the following week I will be out of town. :)


	20. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin, Jauffre, Baurus and Aurelia develop their strategy. Aurelia waivers in her conviction.

XX

    “Good. Now, loose!”

    A shower of arrows shot through the air and hit various targets, some dead in the center, some askew to the left or the right. Aurelia stood behind her fellow Blades, her arms behind her back, watching each one and correcting their form, where it needed to be corrected. She had kept herself occupied while Baurus and the other captains were in Bruma on assignment from Jauffre, and she eagerly awaited their return. They had been gone two days, and no message had been sent back to the Temple, reporting either good news or bad.

    The other Blades walked over to the targets and gathered their arrows, returning quickly to their ranks. While many were skilled marksmen, others needed technique. Aurelia paced along their lines, studying the placement of their hands, the angles at which they held their arms, their spinal alignment, and otherwise. She had been given a bow when she was child, by her father, and she had spent nearly thirty years perfecting herself in both combat and the hunt. If there was anyone who could improve them, it was her. She was glad of the task, to keep her mind otherwise occupied.

    Since she had spoken to Jauffre, she could not help but take measures to avoid Martin. It wasn’t hard, he was usually in the library pouring over books. But he was never far from the forefront of her mind. In the quiet, still moments, it was impossible to ignore him.

    Regardless, Jauffre’s words were sobering. It pained her, deeply, that any growing affection between them was not only existent, but that it was noticeable. It was disturbing to her that, behind closed doors or in the thoughts of those around her, suspicion stirred. Her fear, as it grew, only solidified a cold truth she already knew about herself: she would not survive Martin’s world. To even be a part of it, she would lose all privacy, all freedom of thought or choice, all employment of her own accord. Her life would be forfeit to the will of the Empire, to producing an heir, mothering the people. It was not something she would enjoy, it would rip her apart as each day passed, and even with all the effort she could muster she would fail them.And, in turn, any kinship she shared with Martin would die with it.

    No. It was better, this way. Every day the chasm of class widened between them, and every day the window of opportunity closed more and more to jump to the other side. She would let it widen enough that there was no way to succeed anymore. But, even so, he needed her. And she knew it. Every morning brought the same contortion of her own thoughts and wants and feelings. Every evening she prayed for an answer. And every night, as she laid her head to sleep, she knew it would not come. The next day, she would be torn again.

    Martin walked out onto the Temple balcony, his first time in sunlight for days. He watched the soldiers ready their marks, aim, and loose their arrows. Aurelia was an authoritative teacher, firm but fair. They were improving rapidly under her mentorship. From the side of her eye she saw him standing there, and looked up. And for a moment, they were both caught in an internal release, as if their muscles and joints and tendons were finally given the ease of a chair after a long day. Martin felt immediately encouraged at the sight of her, and Aurelia felt immediately hopeful at the sight of him.

    Then, the guards at the gate announced Baurus’ return, with his party intact. They hurried into the Temple and Aurelia followed behind them, eager and unsure of what they were bringing with them.

 

___________________________

 

    “And you’re sure this isn’t a falsified document, to veer us off course?” Jauffre said, looking over the parchment that Baurus had brought.

    “No, sir,” Baurus shook his head, “It’s authentic.”

    Martin stood in the corner of the meeting room, his back to the wall and his hands under his chin. He stared at the floor, frowning, deep in thought. Jauffre handed the document to Aurelia and she read, greedily, her heartbeat quickening with each word:

> _The Master was pleased to hear of your activities outside of Chorrol. The more gates that we open, the nearer we are to the glorious Cleansing._
> 
> _The Master has chosen you and Saveri for a most crucial mission, a sign of your advancement through the ranks of the Chosen. We have learned that the Septim heir has gone to ground at Cloud Ruler Temple, the lair of the accursed Blades. The Master has made its destruction the top priority of the Order, and Lord Dagon has committed whatever resources are required._
> 
> _Pending your report on the Septim's activities at Cloud Ruler Temple, and your assessment of Temple defenses and possible routes of escape, we plan to open a Great Gate in the open ground before Bruma as soon as possible._
> 
> _Remember: the first three Lesser Gates represent only the preliminary stages of Great Gate Deployment. Do not in any way compromise your cover in defense of these gates. New ones can be quickly and easily reopened. And once the Great Gate is opened, the fall of Bruma is assured. Cloud Ruler Temple cannot stand long after that, and the Septim will be caught like a rat in a trap._
> 
> _We would welcome any further details you can offer concerning the agent who rescued Martin from Kvatch, but again, we caution you... do not risk a confrontation. This individual is not to be trifled with._
> 
> _The Dawn is breaking,_
> 
> _Ruma Camoran_

    She returned it to Jauffre and sat down in front of the large, wooden table that housed a map of Tamriel, with Gates marked across the provinces.

    “They know where Martin is,” she said, her head in her hands.

    “Yes,” Jauffre said softly.

    “Could it be through mortal means?” Baurus asked and Jauffre shook his head.

    “No, at least not by anyone within our ranks. I can only assume they garnered this information through some of the daedric magic that Camoran wields. We don’t know yet how powerful he really is.”

    “They know about her as well,” Martin countered, cutting into the conversation, motioning to Aurelia with his head, “They know she is still involved in the rebellion against the Dawn, and I am sure that Camoran has targeted her by any means he feels to employ.”

    “That’s not as significant,” she scoffed, her head still resting in her hands.

    “It is,” Martin corrected, firmly.

    She lifted her head and glanced at him, “I’ve spent the better part of a decade at one point or another being a target for someone, at some time, somewhere. I can handle it.”

    “This isn’t like that, Aura,” Martin continued, his tone growing more severe. “I know the power of daedric magic, and to be in its grasp is something to fear. For anyone.”

    “Martin, what have you uncovered from the Xarxes?” Baurus asked.

    “I think I deciphered part of the ritual needed to open a portal to Camoran’s Paradise, he began as he paced about the room. “The Xarxes mentioned four items needed for the ritual, but so far I have only confirmed one of them: the blood of a Daedra Lord.”

     Aurelia stood herself, “The Daedra don’t bleed. Perhaps if they take a mortal form, something tangible? Is that what we need?”

    “Daedric artifacts are known to be formed from the essence of a Daedric Lord,” Martin explained, “It is how they derive their great power. Not an easy thing to come by, obviously. But we  _will_  need a Daedric artifact.”

    “The only way to obtain an artifact is through the cults devoted to the Daedric Lords,” Jauffre said, “Our library has a copy of  _Modern Heretics_. Perhaps that may be of some use.”

    “The ritual will consume the physical form of that artifact in order to release its power. We should take that into consideration when we select one,” Martin mused. “But, I think our best option is Sanguine’s Rose. Sanguine himself is more likely to engage with us, for the fun of it. It would prove entertaining for him.”

    “Forgive me,” Aurelia said sardonically, “but how does one summon a Daedric Lord? I don’t suppose you can buy them a drink, laugh at their jokes?”

    “Actually,” Martin smirked, “That is exactly how to summon him.”

    “You’re kidding.”

    “No. The summoning date of Sanguine is 16th of Sun's Dawn. We’ve passed that date, unfortunately. But Sanguine himself also be summoned in his shrine, if the summoner offers him Cyrodilic Brandy.” Martin scanned the expression’s of disbelief on the face of his captive audience. “Trust me,” he chuckled, “I would know.”

    “Right,” Baurus said, running his hand over his short hair, “I suppose it will be an experience, if anything at all. I will go.”

    “Actually,” Martin said, “Aurelia should go.”

    “Why me?” she cried.

    “Because,” Martin explained, “Brother Jauffre is too old to be of interest to him, Baurus is already aligned to his values of merriment and joviality so he won’t pose enough of a challenge—“ Baurus shot him a look and Martin waved him off, “—and for obvious reasons, I can’t go.”

    “And why would I be of interest?” Aurelia asked wryly.

    “You’re harder to corrupt, you’re cynical, and you have a hatred for the stuffy aristocracy to rival even his own. He’ll like you, I imagine. I would be careful with that.”

    “Cynical?” Aurelia raised a brow and Martin smirked.

    “A realist, then,” he chuckled, “And, you’re a woman.”

    “I fail to see what that has to do with it.”

    Martin leaned back against the wall, “Sanguine has domain over the darker natures of man, the patron deity of sinners. Lust being one such sin he seems to enjoy profoundly. He’s particularly fond of a spell that can be employed using Sanguine’s Rose that removes the clothing of everyone within the spell’s radius, for example,” Martin smiled, rather mischievously for a former priest.

    Aurelia raised a brow, “And you know this how?”

    “I once possessed it, briefly. A lifetime ago, it seems now. To obtain it, and then give it up will be—” he frowned, “—well, it will prove your dedication to our cause, let’s put it that way. It’s an intoxicating thing.”

    “Really,” she murmured, their eyes locked. Jauffre cleared his throat, and they broke eye contact, both looking in opposing directions of where the other was sitting.

    “Additionally, the Countess of Bruma is hosting a dinner for the other provinces’ aristocracy,” Martin announced, resuming his authoritative demeanor. “Considering that Bruma is the Dawn’s target, I think I need to attend. It will be imperative that we demonstrate support from the Empire. If they plan to raise an Oblivion Gate in front of Bruma to get to me, then it can be assumed that it will be an assault even more severe than what we saw at Kvatch. They can’t afford to lose.” Jauffre nodded in agreement and Aurelia leaned back in her chair, pushing against the table with her feet so she was casually balancing on its back legs.

     “Well,” she sighed, “That will be quite the event. Imagine the nobles of Tamriel clamoring to sink their teeth into the new heir and push their agendas to the front lines.”

     “You won’t have to imagine it,” Martin said pointedly, “because you’re going.”

     Aurelia’s chair snapped forward, and she stared at him, mouth open. “I respectfully decline, thank you,” she said, excusing herself and walking to the door.

    “Aura,” he warned, his brow raised. She stopped, took in a deep breath, walked back to her chair and sat back down, her arms crossed across her chest.

    “I don’t see why I need to go.”

    “Because,” Martin explained, his tone measured, “You are the only one here that has closed an Oblivion gate and seen Lord Dagon’s plane in it. The leaders of the provinces are going to want a first-hand account. And they are going to need to hear that we can close these gates, that there’s hope.

    “I already ordered Ygritte to send an order to the dressmakers in Bruma for you. It should be painless,” Jauffre informed her. There would be no way out of this, that seemed certain. Aurelia cursed beneath her breath.

    “Your father will be there,” Martin reassured her, quietly.

    At that, her heart beat a little faster. “Really? When is he coming to Bruma?” she asked.

    “The Countess is holding her dinner in six days, I assume he will arrive the day before,” Jauffre answered her. “If you’ll excuse me, Martin, if we are finished here,” the old man sighed, “I need to debrief Baurus and the others. This letter might provide some more insight to the Dawn’s inner-workings.” Jauffre quitted the room and Baurus followed, winking at Aurelia as he did so. She smiled in response. Baurus was, truly, a treasure of a man.

    Martin, still leaning against the back wall, seemed to relax as they left.

    “I am glad they are otherwise occupied because there was something I needed to discuss with you that, I imagine, you would prefer to be kept private.” At this, as it often did, Aurelia’s mouth went dry. Martin walked to the door and closed it behind him. “When we met, you told me about your imprisonment. You did not explain why, not really. But you did mention the man in question was a man of influence. We did not know each other the way we do now, so I did not ask. But I could sense he was the source of your suffering. Was I correct in that assumption?

    Aurelia did not blink, did not move. She was frozen where she sat. Private conversations seemed very intrusive, as of late. Intrusive and surprising. They brought forth traumas she had buried, successfully, for a long time. Her chest felt as though ice was branching through her vital organs and killing her, slowly, methodically. She noticed her hands were shaking and pressed them together to calm herself.

    He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his.

    “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I would not ask if I did not feel it was important.”

    “I know,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

    “Who was your accuser? I need to know, to ensure that he isn’t given an invitation.”

    “He has influence in the Imperial City, you’re going to need allies in men like him—”

    “I have no interest in men like him,” Martin said sternly.

    “He will know he’s being slighted, he won’t like it.”

    “I am sure there will be a great many things in the future that he won’t like,” he said, squeezing her hand. He lowered his voice, drawing her in. She looked at him. “Do you think that I could ever endorse, resource or not, a man that profited off the suffering of others?” He placed a hand on her face, “Or your suffering?”

    It was in this still and vulnerable moment that for the first time, Aurelia glimpsed another future, one in which she wasn’t afraid of the masses and wasn’t too stubborn to relinquish the freedoms she enjoyed now. And for the first time, the consequences of that life seemed perfectly bearable. The cost was not so high, when she dared to ventured what else that future could hold. All other responsibilities, fears, and measurements of honorable actioned seemed to fade into nothing. Her demons, fears of inadequacy and insufficiency gave way to a quieted mind, one that could take in the present moment. She noticed things should could not have been before, like how blue Martin’s eyes were or that his hair had grown or that he had stubble on his face or how much they had both changed in the time they had known each other. Her senses were clearer, and she could feel the warmth of his hand on her cheek and could rest in the safety of that warmth. Proximity was, at all times, the things that frightened her and excited her. It was a strange thing, to feel the desire to be near someone and the need to run from them in tandem.

    Aurelia swallowed, “You care a great deal about the suffering of others, don’t you?” she said softly and he smiled in response.

    “Yes,” he said, allowing his hand to fall from her face.

    “I suppose that is why you made a good priest.”

    He looked at her pointedly, and they remained there, locked in something they both could not fully understand.

    “I am not a priest anymore, Aurelia.”

    “No,” she breathed, “You’re not.”


	21. The Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia, Martin and the Blades travel to Bruma.

XXI

 

    The Shrine of Sanguine was located outside of Skingrad, on the opposite end of Cyrodil. It would be more than a five day journey there and back, and by that time the Countess’ dinner would have passed. The morning after the dinner she would go from Bruma and try her hand at the jovial Daedric Lord, and pray he was merciful. In the meantime, Martin would work tirelessly to decipher the ritual so when the artifact was brought back, perhaps they could make some use of it. 

    In preparation, Aurelia spent a great deal of time at the library, pouring over any volumes that Martin could recommend to her that dealt with Daedric Lords, and the cults that surrounded them. Martin himself was deep into the Xarxes, stopping only when she pried his eyes away from it to eat and rest. In the evening, they had developed a routine of reading during the day, taking a walk in the afternoon, and eating in the library in the evening. While Martin rarely left the Xarxes or the company of the other tomes he poured over in conjunction with it, Aurelia often took time to work with the other Blades on their archery form and technique. Some days, she would work to build up the strength her wounds had robbed from her, training with Baurus in both shortsword and dagger wielding. But, in the still and quiet hours of the afternoon, when she was with Martin in the library bent over _Modern Heretics_ and other such volumes, what she did not see was the moments that Martin looked away from the enigmatic pages of the Xarxes and looked at her. 

    As he would read a book and digest its contents, he would study her face. She had a child-like vivacity to her, always did. It was pleasantly surprising when coupled with her sardonic, stern nature. Like her father, Aurelia’s eyes often shifted from blue to grey. And like her mother, her copper hair had a life of its own and was as singular as she was. When they had met, she was fierce and sharp and untouchable. But, when all the blood and the sweat and pride was washed away, she was, to him, utterly striking. The same way the scarlet wing of a bird would draw your eye in a forest, a flash of red in a scene of brown and green, Aurelia’s face immediately captured his attention. There was so much to see there. She hid very little, although she may not have understood that in herself. Her feelings, thoughts, fears, they all played out on her face like a troupe of performers on a stage. Her joy, when expressed, was a beautiful thing to behold. Her face had become his favorite thing to read. 

 

___________________________

 

    It was two days before the Countess’ dinner, and Ygritte had returned from Bruma that morning with the dress that had been ordered. The fitting was not something Aurelia had looked forward to in any respect. She felt foreign and inauthentic in anything extravagant. Her mother always dressed plainly, preferring to use the resources employed to create more decorative gowns to help others. Gladly, Aurelia would continue that legacy in own state of dress. She hoped that Ygritte understood that about her. 

    “Alright, m’lady,” Ygritte smiled, lifting Aurelia’s hair up and pinning it away from her neck, “I hope the measurements were correct, we’ve no time to make another.”

    She helped Aurelia undress and laid the gown out for her to approve.

    “Ygritte,” Aurelia laughed when she saw it, “Thank the Gods you know me so well.”

    The dress was a deeply saturated blue, but utterly plain. It had a neckline that was ever so slightly off the shoulders, and medium length butterfly sleeves. There was very little detailing and the train was simple. It was perfect for her.

    “Perhaps this dinner will be bearable after all,” she smiled, as Ygritte helped her into the dress. When it was on and laced, Ygritte’s smile brightened.

    “I have one more thing for you,” she said as she hurried from the room. When she returned, she held what looked to be a brandished steel breast-plate in her hands, but it was considerably smaller. She held it up, and Aurelia saw what it was more clearly. The girl must have ordered a blacksmith to create a bodice-like adornment out of steel. Like a corset, it was fitted and would enunciate the waist, but it was fashioned out of the same sturdy steel that most armor was cast of. Ygritte fastened it around Aurelia’s waist and stepped back, her hands on her hips.

    “That feels quite like you, m’lady,” she said, satisfied. “A woman-warrior.”

    Aurelia looked at herself in the glass and smiled, “Just a warrior, Ygritte,” she said. “The word does not belong to men.” 

 

___________________________

 

    The afternoon before the dinner, Baurus and the other captains had begun to pack up a small, humble covered-carriage with supplies and any other resources they would need. The plan was to take soldiers with the carriage on one route and Aurelia, Martin, Jauffre and two other Blades would take an entirely different route. The hope was that if there was some kind of assignment from the Dawn, they would assume Martin would be in the carriage with the Blade escort, and would be thrown off course. 

    The Countess of Bruma would house them in Castle Bruma, with ample protections. There would be guards posted at Martin’s door, at the Hallway entrances, and at the front. All precautions would be taken at the dinner itself, with Blades posted in the kitchen to observe food preparation, as well as throughout the Great Hall, dining area, and any surrounding areas that guests may venture to.

    Aurelia sat atop Eidolon, barebacked as she was wont to do, and looked out over the Jerall Mountains and the valley beneath it. Bruma was not far, they would be there by evening and the Countess, being the host that she was reputed to be, would no doubt have a warm welcome for them. Baurus rode up beside her and smiled warmly.

    “I’ll see you soon, Hero,” he called, “Keep the Emperor to be alive, won’t you?”

    Aurelia rolled her eyes and waved him off. Baurus and his tram went to the right, down the Emperor’s road, and Aurelia and the others rode to the left, with Martin riding in the middle and the others flanking his sides. 

 

___________________________

 

    The Castle Bruma was much larger than the halls she had known in Kvatch. It’s stone pillars, sturdy and ancient, were well kept and well guarded. Bruma’s banners, yellow as sunflowers, brought a brightness to the structure. The guards met them at the gate, and escorted them securely into the front room. It was a large, open hall with a small platform at its back, with two chairs situated in its center. Countess Narina Carvain sat on one of them, alone, smiling emphatically when they entered.

     “It feels strange, that we have never met,” she said warmly when she approached Martin. “Your letters have given me such familiarity with you, its almost as though we had met already.” The Countess was older, probably about the same age as her father, Aurelia noted. But, age had not affected her poise and beauty. There was a strength to her that was well-known, and could be read in her face. Aurelia liked her immediately. 

    Martin took her hand, “Thank you, Countess, for hosting us.”

    “I was looking for an excuse to get the nobility in one room,” she smirked, “We bicker and argue so often, it seems the only time we unite is when there’s a party involved.”

    “A party or a crisis.”

    “Hmm,” Countess shook her head, “You will find, sire, that even in crisis these people are clamoring for their piece of what’s left, rather than fight to save it.”

    “Let’s hope that together we can change that.”

    The Countess looked over his shoulder to the others with him. She smiled at Jauffre, whose face was very familiar to her, and her eyes scanned the remaining members of the party. When they fell on Aurelia, they stopped.

    “I had hope you would be here, child,” she said, and walked toward her. Aurelia bowed her head, ever so slightly, as she was told to do as a child when face to face with nobility. At least some of what her mother had taught her remained.“I have known your father for many, many years,” she said, taking Aurelia’s hands in her own. Aurelia suddenly was very aware of how dirty she was. However, the Countess, even in her silk dress and other finery, did not seem to notice, and Aurelia was grateful for that. 

    “He’s spoken of you very warmly,” she replied.

    “I attended their wedding you know, your father and your mother’s.”

    Aurelia lit up, “I didn’t know that.”

    “Yes, it was an occasion to be sure, your mother’s family was prominent in Bruma. That she was leaving us for some soldier in Kvatch was rather scandalous,” she winked, and took Aurelia’s arm in hers, walking across the Great Hall toward the dining area. “You look like your mother, you know,” she said quietly, so only Aurelia could hear.

    She squeezed the Countess’ fine hand. “Thank you,” she said, earnestly grateful to hear that she bore any resemblance, in look or in deed, to her mother. 

    They ate that evening in the lesser dining hall, closer to the kitchens. The Countess had said that she did not use the finer dining rooms unless she had guests. She preferred to be left in the quiet, and closer to her staff. Her humility, intelligence and authority was impressive to Aurelia. They all spoke of their strategy, of their encumbrances, of Oblivion itself. Narina listened with interested, asking questions along the way. 

    After they had eaten, Narina directed them all to their rooms in the boarding hall and ordered their horses to be washed, fed and stabled. Aurelia was assigned a maid, but declined her. She preferred the privacy of handling her own affairs.

    In the evening, the Castle Bruma was so quiet it was almost eerie. Even though guards were posed in every room, it felt vast and empty when it was not filled with daylight. Aurelia bathed, enjoying the comfort of hot water, and thoroughly cleaned herself. While she rarely felt embarrassed by dirt of sweat or blood, she was rarely in places in which that kind of thing was looked down upon. In a mead hall or armory or tavern, not one patron cared. 

    The Countess had provided her with night robes to sleep in. As she did not want to offend by refusing even more from her, she complied and accepted them. They were of a much finer material than Aurelia herself had worn before, even in her youth when her mother went to the Count’s court and forced her to accompany. She put a white one on, brushed her hair, and sat on a very large and very inviting bed. Across from it, there was a wood door that led to a balcony, much like where she stayed at Chancellor Maro’s. She laid down on the bed, arms out and hair sprawled across its surface. But she could not sleep. Aurelia decided that she would spend some time exploring the many rooms and passageways of Castle Bruma. 

 

___________________________

 

    Much like many of the other Castles in the area, Castle Bruma had a small, private chapel. Countess Narina was a deeply religious woman, though shrewd. Aurelia opened its doors, and couldn’t help but be affected. It was very small, but modeled after most chapels in the city. There was an altar at the center, and the room itself was circular. Around its walls were stained glass portraits of the Divines. Aurelia walked along the edge, her fingers outstretched, tracing the lines of each one, lost in her own disbelief. 

    “It’s almost providential, how often we’re of one mind,” a voice echoed in the dark.

     Startled, Aurelia turned. Martin was sitting in one of the pews.

    Catching her breath, she laughed, “I think you just enjoy sitting in dark, empty rooms. Or perhaps you're following me.”

    Martin smirked, and stood up from the pew.

    “I thought I would take some time to pray,” he sighed, looking up at the stained glass portrait of Akatosh. He grew serious. “What I say and do tomorrow will have lasting affects in the relationships I build with each province.”

    “You’ll do fine.”

    “In the end, it won’t matter if I don’t decipher a way into Paradise.”

    “You will.”

    “You see,” Martin said, walking along the opposite edge of the portraits, looked at each one, “that is precisely why I wanted you here.”

    Aurelia watched him.

    “I thought you needed me here as a first hand account of the Gates of Oblivion.”

    “I do.”

    Aurelia waited.

    “Need and want are two different things, Aurelia,” Martin chuckled. “I needed you here because you provide validity to the horrors we’re facing. I wanted you here because—” he stopped. It seemed that Martin had nothing to say, he was unable to find the words. And Aurelia desperately wanted him to say what he did not seem to know how to voice.

    “Because…?” she asked quietly. 

    “Well,” he said, runninga hand through his hair, “because I don’t really know how to do any of this without you. You keep me anchored. You don’t have expectations of me, like the rest. Fairly, they do. But it doesn’t ease the burden of it.”

    “That isn’t true. I have expectations of you,” she countered. 

    “Yes, in some ways. But its different. Your expectations are rooted in belief, not fear. You’re not afraid of what will happen if I cannot lead, that isn’t the source of your faith in me. It’s not a survival instinct, its a conviction,” he almost seemed to be explaining this to himself and Aurelia was not entirely following. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and his eyes met hers. “You see me,” he said at last. 

    “I _know_ you.”

    “Yes. _You know me_. Apart from all this.”

    “Yes,” she said quietly, almost whispering, “I do.”

    Martin stepped toward her, more closely than had ever had before. 

    “I’m glad that you do,” he murmured. 

    She looked down. Somehow, in the middle of that, he had taken her hand. Her breathing began unsteady and she swallowed. 

    “I—” she started, and looked up at him. His proximity was intoxicating. She could feel it, the approaching moment, when they would have to face what was happening to them, what had been happening from the moment they met. It was a crossroads that must be traveled, and there would be no turning back from it. After it was said, it was said. It could not be undone, it could not be changed. It would be a brutal, beautiful finality. They had toyed with it for so long now, but Aurelia had never chosen a road. She had been unmovable, frozen to the ground, at the foot of the crossroads. The choice was so frightening to her that it paralyzed her. A Gate of Oblivion, gaping open with daedra pouring from its mouth was far more terrifying than telling him the truth. 

    “I think I should get to bed,” she muttered, looking at the floor. Martin smiled. 

    “Yes, you should,” he said softly, and then, very tenderly, kissed the top of her head. “Goodnight, my friend.”

    Aurelia walked to the door, her hands clenched into fists to stop them from shaking.

   “Goodnight, Martin,” she said as she left him alone in the chapel. 

 

___________________________

 

    When Aurelia returned to her room, she closed the door behind her and walked out to the balcony. She needed air. Her room was suffocating. But, she could not sleep. Not now. It felt as thought she would never be able to sleep again. She resigned to visiting Eidolon in the stables, and walked out of the Castle to where the horses were housed as quickly as possible. When she found him, she closed the stable gate behind her and drew his muzzle close, letting his familiar smell calm her. Then, she heard the sounds of a riding approaching the Castle. She walked outside of the stable and her heart leapt at what she saw

    "Father!" 

___________________________

 

    Somewhere, in the chapel, Martin knelt at the altar of the Divines and prayed. Hard. 


	22. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Countess hosts a dinner with the most notable and influential men and women of the provinces, and Aurelia confides in her father.

XXII

     “Count Matius,” Narina said warmly, welcoming him into the front hall. She was clad in her bedclothes, with her hair in twisted cloths in preparation for tomorrow. But, she didn’t seem to mind. The Countess wasn’t burdened by expectations or pretense. 

     “That will never cease to sound strange to me,” Matius said, embracing her. 

     “How was your journey, my old friend? I received your letter only this morning. You almost beat the messenger! Did you not come with a traveling party?

     “Absolutely not,” he scoffed. “I came alone, on horseback.”

     “Well, that explains quite a bit about Aura, doesn’t it?” Martin called out, entering the hall from the chapel. Count Matius eyed his daughter at the use of her nickname. Aurelia did not look at him, though she felt his gaze on her. Martin took hands with the newly appointed count, clearly concerned. 

     “How is the recovery of Kvatch? The last I heard was you finally had the last of the memorial services for the dead, by the Chapel. I imagine that was very difficult for you.”

     Even in her discomfort, Aurelia’s heart softened at Martin’s clear, genuine concern for her townspeople, for the people he would soon rule over. His was a heart really seen in people who hold power. But, the same could be said for his father. 

     “It was,” Matius murmured, “But it was healing to have time to grieve, and for families to have a tangible place to visit their loved ones. And speaking of,” he said, and the Countess smiled, knowingly.

     “I will have my men stable and feed your horse. The guards can escort you?”

     “No,” Matius declined, “I’ll go alone. Unless—" he glanced at Aurelia and she shook her head. He nodded, “I’ll go alone.”

     The Countess walked alongside Matius, taking his arm as old friends often do, and they spoke softly amongst themselves as they left the hall. 

     Martin looked at Aurelia, expectantly.

     “My mother is buried in Bruma,” she said flatly.

     “And you have no interest is visiting her grave?”

     Aurelia glimpsed the last of her father as he vanished from her view and frowned, her expression almost listless. 

     “I don’t know,” she murmured, her attention elsewhere. It was silent for a moment.

     “I thought you were going to bed,” he inquired, his voice breaking through her thoughts, like white water on a cliffside. 

     “Hmm?”

     “You should sleep.”

     Aurelia hadn’t slept well in days. Her dreams still haunted her, but each night they grew in duration and intensity. Since her last encounter with the Dawn, she could see Camoran’s face, snarling and snapping like a rabid dog, his hand reaching out to her, his fingers, extended and claw-like and merciless. He always whispered the same thing: _Paradise is waiting._ She always saw her mother, rotting and in pain. But recently, the dream had taken a new edge. The traumas of her past had been neatly tucked away in a lockbox, secured and removed from her mind. But, when she dreamt, the box was uncovered and opened up and out poured the horrors and brutalities that had left deeper scars than those that marked her skin. Often, she woke up in cold sweat, afraid and alone. For years, she had refused her mother’s grave because of her anger. But now, she knew that when she finally did visit, everything would spill out in waves and would tear through her in a way she wasn’t ready for. She was so afraid of the void that had been left when she died, afraid that it would consume her entirely. She still was. 

     “I can’t sleep,” Aurelia admitted, “I’m… afraid to.”

“Nightmares?”

     “That’s a tame word for them, yes.”

     “I’m having them as well,” Martin sighed, “Though mine prey on different fears than yours, I imagine.”

     “And how do you remedy them?”

     "You don’t,” he said softly, “You learn to embrace them.”

     She looked at him, suddenly very aware of how tired she really was, “Embrace them?”

     Martin shrugged, “I pray.”

     She took in a deep breath, “I don’t think I have the stomach for that anymore,” she muttered, “The Divines have done very little for us, with all their power.”

     “I don’t pray for the Divines, they aren’t wholly interested in what I have to say. I can’t even say for certain if they have stake in what is happening to us,” Martin said matter of factly, “I _believe_ they do, but I cannot say for certain. Nothing is certain. We know they’re there, but their intentions will never be fully known. I pray in hopes that through that exercise, I can transform my own soul. By praying, I meditate on something higher, something greater. In that silence, I remember what matters most. And I found hope in that.”

    That was not something she expected to hear. It was not the postering she had heard throughout her childhood. It was the truth, with all its humanity and frailty. That was something she esteemed so highly in Martin. He never lied to her, even to comfort her.

     Aurelia smiled, “That wasn’t exactly the most pious of answers, was it?”

     Martin sighed, “I never made a good priest, to be honest. I had too many questions, too many doubts. I never felt wholly realized in my faith. With those who came to me for prayer or guidance it was in great part a pretense.”

    “Whether it was pretense or not, you gave people hope. And you will give them hope again as their Emperor,” she encouraged.

“Maybe,” he smirked, “If I survive tomorrow.”

_____________________________

 

The following morning was immensely chaotic.When Aurelia had finally fallen asleep, it felt as though she was immediately awakened. Castle Bruma was in stark contrast of its quiet austerity of the night before. Every servant, housemaid and guard was occupied with one task or another. Families of nobles had begun to arrive and the Countess was both barking orders at servants and welcoming each family, warmly and extravagantly, in tandem. 

    Aurelia’s dress had been laid out for her, and a lady’s maid had informed her that she would return later that afternoon to dress her and prepare her hair. Almost with contempt, she stared as the incoming carriages and the noise of the nobility outside her balcony. When she was a child, her mother would bring her to court to engage her socially, with other girls. It never went well. Years had passed but she had changed very little. It was easier for her to be coarse and remain open with people, than it was to understand every minute action and word and it’s deeper meaning. She _could_ do it if she worked very hard at it, but it exhausted her endlessly. It did not come easily and took gratuitous effort. While she sat on a chair opposite the bed still glaring at the dress, her father opened her door, knocking as he did so.

     “Aura?” he asked. She brightened. “Am I intruding?”

“Never,” she smiled warmly. 

     “I thought I would escape the gaggle outside,” he chuckled, closing the door. 

     “Father,” Aurelia cooed, “You’re now a sought-after, unmarried nobleman. You need to give those ladies an audience with you.”

     “Damn those geese to Oblivion,” he laughed, “I’d sooner trade places with the horses for a night then listen to them any longer.”

     “That can be arranged, I imagine.”

     “You don’t look too thrilled yourself.”

     “I’m not, I’m here against my will.”

     “Then we can comfort each other, in our suffering. From what I can tell, there will be an abundance of wine. Praise the Gods.”

     Aurelia smiled, and paused. “I missed you a great deal, you know,” she said after a moment. 

     “Did you now?” Matius smirked, pouring himself a brandy from the decanter sitting on the breakfast table in the corner. “I’d never have know it from all your letters over the years,” he chided. “All _nine_ of them.”

     “I know,” Aurelia murmured, ashamed. Matius’ face was not cross, however his words sounded. He looked as he always did in her presence: proud and stern all at once. 

     “So,” he sighed, leaning against wall, brandy in hand, “What have you been up to, these last ten years? I was glad that you at least wrote as the time passed, so I knew you were alive. I did try to keep tabs on you through the other guard captains in the provinces.”

     “You did?”

     He nodded, “I did.”

     “And what did they tell you?” she asked slowly. 

     “Very little. They merely told me if a girl with uniquely red hair and a permanent scowl was seen in their town. And of course, if she got into any drunken fights,” he smirked, taking a sip of the brandy. 

     Aurelia smiled, briefly. Then, with her brows knitted together and her arms crossed across her chest, she stood and paved the length of the room, settling in front of him. She had always been determined to keep her imprisonment from him, to never tell him the brutality she endured and the fear and the invasionBut, she couldn’t anymore. There was too much grief in her, it was spilling out and ripping her at the seams. Tears filled her eyes and fell over her cheeks as she wept. 

     “Father,” she choked out between sobs. Matius stood and embraced her, calming her. “I-I have so m-much to t-tell you,” she cried out, holding onto him, grasping his shoulders with pale fingers. He pulled her in close. 

     “Shh,” he whispered, “I’m here, Aura. I’m here.”

 _____________________________

 

     The evening came too quickly, as it often did. Martin, dressed in a very simple fine leather doublet and grieves, paced in his room. He tried to keep his mind collected and not give in to the fears that had been plaguing him since Kvatch. All he could do now was be his authentic self, and strive for the betterment of Tamriel, and pray that the leaders of each province felt he was genuine. But, when faced with the duality of the nobility and the fickleness of their loyalty, every step must be calculated, strategic. He would need to approach this as a commander would a siege. And yet, even knowing this, his mind could never be fully committed to it. There was always a part of it that remained fixed on something else entirely. Someone else entirely. Martin sighed, breathed deeply, and opened the door the Great Hall. 

 

_____________________________

 

     The Hall had been thoroughly cleaned, decorated and prepared for the Countess’ incoming guests. The dining table was prepared with well over fifty places and there were guards stationed in every corner of every room. Waiting staff walked around the party with drinks prepared and the mulled wine, mead, and brandy were abundant. Aurelia could hear the growing roar of conversation as the hall was filled with more and more people. Her heart would not slow in its beat, or it’s thunder. 

     The lady’s maid had dressed her, and done some kind of intricate braided arrangement on the upper half of her hair, allowing the more unruly bottom half to be as it was. This was more because of Aurelia’s impatience than the maid’s artistic vision. She really couldn’t bare to sit there any longer as the girl pulled and tugged at the copper strands and forced them to submit to her will. She stood before the glass now, studying herself. Much to her pride, she did feel that tonight she looked very much like her mother. The bruises had faded and could barely be seen now, and the ladies had done an impressive job applying the necessary beautification treatments and oils when they had bathed and readied her. But, she was glad that there were still pieces of her that remained. The wildness of her hair and the armored dress that Ygritte had been so prophetic to give her gave her a sense of familiarity. Within that train of thought, Aurelia took a piece of hair that was oppressed under the extravagant braids and pulled it in front of her face. With that, she poured herself a glass of the brandy that was sitting on the table in her room, gulped it down, grimacing as she did. 

_Time to go._

_____________________________

 

     There was something deeply amusing seeing Savian Matius, clad in finery, attempting to juggle the attentions of several older noblewomen.While he was trying his best to repress any growing discontentment, Aurelia knew him well and he was clearly terrified. It would be well received, she imagined, if she came to his rescue. Smiling, she laid a hand on his forearm and his expression instantly softened at the sight of her. 

     “Father,” she whispered, a coy smile on her lips, “If I didn’t know better I would think you were relieved to see me.”

    “Help me,” he said through his teeth, an over exuberant smile still frozen on his face. He gestured to Aurelia, addressing the several ladies that had piqued interest at her arrival. 

     “My daughter, Aurelia,” he introduced her. She smiled in response. The ladies immediately fawned over her. An elderly woman, quite fat and clearly enjoying the wine, smiled warmly, petting Aurelia’s hand as she did. 

     “Well, we’ve heard a great deal about you, dear,” she beamed, “Your father is so well respected, you know. We were so sorry to hear of Kvatch’s misfortunes, dreadful thing.”

     She spoke of the siege as if the city was experiencing a temporary shortage of pheasants. Despite herself, Aurelia was offended by it. She tried to repress any growing urge to correct the woman and smiled thinly in response. The women all continued in their assault of questions, asking about the weather in Bruma or if she also felt the growing warmth of the hall as more people arrived, and why there were so many fires going? 

     Aurelia had begun to feel the fatigue that often accompanied tedium and desperately looked around the hall for some excuse to flee it. As she did, her eyes washed over the faces that filled the hall. From the very old to the very young, each wore an expression of their own self-proclaimed superiority. Amassed in one corner of the room, it was very clear that the more aggressive nobility were entirely focused on building alliance with the new heir. Martin, with the Countess as his side, was very patiently listening to each one. His focus was so singular it was almost as if he was enjoying their conversation. But Aurelia knew better, and silently congratulated him for his impressive performance. She was not doing as well. 

     In another part of the room, a group of young women, each surpassing the other in beauty and refinement, talked amongst themselves. There was something savage about it, the way they each looked at him, hungry and grasping. The hunt was beginning already. Aurelia was acutely aware of how much that bothered her. She had always felt, deep down within herself, that if Martin did what she thought was his responsibility and married one of the more influential, wealthy women in the provinces, it was extremely unlikely that he would not deeply regret it. While not all of the nobility were distasteful, it was almost a guarantee that any woman that thrust herself into that position was not doing so for the thrill of his companionship. He would likely be doomed to the same burdens of his father. While she was ruminating in this, an expression of unease very likely shadowing her features, she noticed that Martin was now looking around the room himself, his focus broken. His eyes met hers, and as they always did, brought relief and an undercurrent of untamable nervous energy. He smiled and with his head, gestured to her to walk over and brave the fray. Aurelia excused herself and walked toward him. Her father gave her a desperate glance as she left him alone. 

     Martin smiled warmly, and introduced her.

     “I am sure you have heard a great deal about our Hero of Kvatch,” he said, “This is Aurelia Matius, her father was the guard captain of Kvatch and was solely responsible that we managed to survive it long enough for Aurelia to close the Gate. He is operating as Count now, as you well know. He’s doing extraordinary work for the relief effort.” 

An older man introduced himself to her as Lord Culvan, of Skasgrad.

“I can scarcely imagine the courage that required, my girl,” he said, “The horrors you must have seen. Was it as ghastly as I imagine?”

     “To be frank, my lord,” Aurelia said cautiously, “the horrors of Oblivion are preferable to the things I have seen in Tamriel itself. At least in Dagon’s plane, the monsters look like monsters. Much harder to spot here.”

     Lord Culvan, to her surprise, laughed. “That is a sad truth, but the truth nonetheless.”

     “Aurelia is full of profound truths,” Martin chuckled, “When you least expect it, she casually expounds them.”

     The others had many questions about Dagon’s realm, and Aurelia was glad of it. If she could convince them of the true horrors that were threatening to overspill into their luxurious, serene lives, it was infinitely more likely that each providence would dedicate resources to the counter effort. They may not be concerned for the other provinces, or the innocent lives that had already been lost, but when the threat slivered into their own lives they would be more than inclined to care. Aurelia knew their kind well. You could destroy the world around them, but as long as their interests were secure, it didn’t matter. They would use the fires of Oblivion to cook their meat if it suited them.

     The Countess finally announced dinner. The large party began to, very slowly, shift into the dining room. They continued their conversations as they did so, the sounds of their voices spilling from the Great Hall to the dining area adjacent to it. As they filtered out of the hall and it began to empty, Martin gently grabbed at Aurelia’s forearm to pull her back from the flow, keeping her behind the crowd beside him. 

     “Well, we’ve survived the most difficult part,” he murmured, walking slowly. “After dinner, they will be too drunk to remember if I say something wrong.”

     “I sincerely doubt you would ever say anything wrong,” Aurelia rolled her eyes. 

     “Really,” he said, almost to himself. “Then, at the risk of proving you incorrect—“ he said, shifting in his stance, “—I think you should know that you look—“ he stopped, frowning, a rare moment of self-doubt. Aurelia tried to lighten the growing tension. 

     “I look a bit ridiculous, I know,” she laughed nervously. 

     “No,” Martin corrected, rather serious. He still seemed to be unable to place what it was that he wanted to say. “It suits you,” he settled on, after a moment. 

     “Thank you,” Aurelia said softly. She noticed they were now the last ones in the hall and the others had moved on to the dining room. “They are probably waiting for you.”

     “They hardly notice I’m gone.”

     “Martin,” Aurelia sighed.

     “I know,” he said, flexing his fist, “I just—” he cleared his throat, “I just need silence, for a moment. Freedom from the incessant conversation.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. 

     “We’ll get you some wine,” Aurelia countered. Martin opened one eye and lifted a brow. “A lot of wine.”

     “Brilliant,” he smirked, and held out an arm for her, “Into battle, then.”


	23. The Rules of the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The provinces rally behind Martin, and Aurelia remembers the savagery of court.

XXIII

                                                                 

 

     The dining hall was grandiose in its scope, and the table itself was impressive. It spanned the length of the room and its surface was made entirely of thick, dark wood. Martin seated himself beside the Countess, at the table head, and Aurelia found her own seat beside her father. Across from her, she noticed, was Countess Irvena Hassildor, an Imperial woman and the wife of the Count Janus Hassildor, of Skingrad. Her husband rarely attended public events and she often performed public duties for him. Aurelia knew her by her appearance. She was known to be a very beautiful, if eccentric, woman. Even in her middle-age, she had a grace and charm that had become somewhat infamous. She bowed her head gently to the Countess, and the woman returned the gesture, if stiffly. 

     The rest of the guests were starting to loosen with wine, their minds fixed on less pure agendas. Aurelia herself had not eaten or drank anything herself. She couldn’t. Her own nerves were singed and rattled by her aristocratic company, and it made her stomach uneasy. As cautiously as she could, she searched for Martin’s face. He was deep in conversation with the Countess of Bruma, as was expected. She silently prayed that this evening would be successful and other highborn individuals would rally behind them. They would not survive the Dawn alone. Then, Martin stood and with his own cup outstretched, addressed the room. 

     “I would be remiss if I didn’t thank the Countess for her hospitality,” he began, “and I would be even more of a fool if I did not extend that thanks to every one of you who made the journey to attend. I value your thoughts about each province, from your own experience and enterprise. My father believed that those who lived their days amongst the people they represented would have far better judgement on matters that affected those people directly. I intend to follow his leadership, and adhere to that wisdom. Your thoughts and feelings on matters of both state and otherwise will be valuable to me in the future. That is,” he set his cup down, and stood tall and stern, “if we have a future.” 

     The guests began to mutter amongst themselves, their mouthes downturned and their eyes widened. Aurelia watched carefully as Martin remained commanding in the silence. If he had felt unsure, he did not look it. His jaw was set.

     “The horrors of Kvatch did not escape your notice. Indeed, some of you sent resources and supplies to aid in its revival. But, even so, the horrors may not end there. And if we do nothing, they _will_ not end there. The destruction and devastation will reach your lands, your homes, your beds. You will know the same fear, your children will be ripped from you, your homes raised to the ground. The Dawn will not cease until all of Tamriel has been reaped and cleansed for Mehrunes Dagon. There will be no mercy, for rich and poor alike.”

     Aurelia’s knuckles were stark white, her fists clenched and resting on her lap. The room, in all its expanse, was silent and still. No one moved, or uttered a sound. Martin continued. 

     “The Blades cannot hold the outpour of the Gates of Oblivion at bay, not on our own. We need resources, soldiers and defenses. The enemy plans to open a Great Gate outside of Bruma, soon. With our current numbers, we won’t be able to defend her. Look around you—” he commanded, gesturing to the room, “—the beauty of this castle, the history within its walls, the people who depend on it. It will be burned to the ground. Like Kvatch.” Martin’s gaze intensified, and he rested his hands on the table, leaning into listening ears. “I was at Kvatch, I survived Kvatch. I will not see all of Tamriel burn.” He stood tall and erect, with authority and command. “If you have any stake in your own future, you will help us.” 

     It was silent once more. The air was thick with the silence, and Aurelia’s heart began to beat ever faster as the seconds passed, and that silence continued. Then, a man stood up. It was Lord Culvan, of Skasgrad. 

     “Well, Martin,” he chuckled, “You know how to put a rather dreary note on a party, don’t you?” Martin did not answer him, he merely smiled coldly. Lord Culvan looked around the room. “As far as I am concerned,” he chided, “all we are, all we have, we owe to Tamriel herself. Her people, her lands. It is our responsibility and our duty, to defend her. If we don’t,” he sighed, “then we are not only selfish, we’re stupid.” Lord Culvan raised his own cup high. “Everything I have to offer is yours, Martin Septim. Everything.”

     And with that, others began to stand as well, raising their own cups and declaring themselves at Martin’s disposal. As dozens began to join in on those declarations, Aurelia felt a tinge of something she did not quite recognize at first, a spark, a lightness in the air. Hope kindled ever brighter as the voices around her cried out in allegiance. Her father grabbed her hand and began to cry out with the others. For the first time in so long, Aurelia was laughing. Gratitude spilled over her in waves and outpoured in joy. 

     They would fight, together. They would all fight for their future. 

 

___________________________

 

     Several of the guests had changed position, so that those who might have military resources and defenses at their disposal could discuss it with Martin. At the far end of the table, they were all crowded together, chairs shoved closer to the head. Aurelia stood to join in their conversation when she was interrupted by Irvena, who had stood behind her as she was seated. Count Matius was locked in conversation with another nobleman beside him, but turned at Irvena’s approach with a grim smile. 

     “Count Matius,Aurelia,” Irvena bowed, delicately, “How lovely you look, dear.”Aurelia own smile was incredibly controlled, “You’re very kind.”

     “You, yourself, are a vision, Countess,” Matius bowed his head, ever the gentlemen. 

     “Thank you,” Irvena giggled, resting her hands on the back of their seats, “This gown was specially made for the evening, so I should hope so.” Aurelia flexed her jaw, and the Countess turned to look at her. “I have never seen you wearing anything like that, Aurelia. One would never know such a pretty girl was hiding beneath all that armor and dirt.” It was phrased to be a compliment, but there was mocking in her tone, casually slipped in with great artistry. 

     “If I had my way, I would still be so, dirt and all, m’lady,” Aurelia smiled thinly. 

     “So it’s true. I thought our new Emperor might have some influence,” Irvena mused, “That was quite an impressive display, his rallying them all together. We’ve all heard a great deal about him, but it does help one to experience it firsthand. I hear he’s a rather close friend of yours,” she prodded, “Tell me, what’s he like?” 

     Aurelia stiffened, “We are in good hands, I promise.” Her tone was to the point. 

     “No, dear,” Irvena cooed, and bent her head closer to Aurelia’s. Too close.“I mean what is he _like_. What are his hobbies, his interests.”

     “I don’t understand.”

     Irvena rested a pale, perfect hand under her chin, “Sweet girl, you know how this game works. I have three daughters, all of marriageable age. I need something to set them apart.”

     “Skingrad is one of the wealthier provinces, is it not?” Count Matius asked, “Perhaps you should be in attendance at the newly established war council that seems to have set up at the head of the table,” he chuckled, gesturing to the group surrounding Martin. 

     “Yes, but Lord Culvan will have more insight to where our resources should go, I imagine. I really have no stake in it. It seems the war has not tarnished our prosperity. However,” Irvena was quite determined, “this new Emperor, poor thing, may not have the understanding of tactical marriage that his father did. He was raised on a farm, they say. His focus may not be on that just yet, but should we come out of this crisis victorious, the people will expect that he not repeat the same mistakes of his predecessor.”

     “Mistakes,” Aurelia repeated, her voice clipped. 

     “Well, they only had three children. It was lucky they were sons. From what I hear, the queen had no desire to have more. She was a very vain woman, you know. She should have had more, she was young enough. My daughters all come from fruitful lineage, he should be made aware of that. It would be an advantage.”

     Irvena’s discussion of this was so frank and pragmatic that it was making Aurelia sick to her stomach. The conversation was no so far removed from the way farmers talked about breeding their livestock. As the exchange took place, she felt her muscles tighten and tense and a familiar fury start to burn in her belly. It must have been evident in her eyes, because her father was giving her a warning look. Her self control was waning of late.

     “We,” she snapped, “are fighting for the soul of Tamriel, Countess. Dagon marches at our gates,” her voice was filled with thinly veiled aggression. “Are you _truly_ more concerned about marriage prospects for your daughters than for that?”

     “You have not lived nearly as long as I have, child,” Irvena said cooly, “The union of the Empire with wealthy and powerful families ensures its survival, just as soldiers do. Those kind of things may be lost on you, but the rest of us understand them. We understand them very well. You might leave the art of diplomacy to us, and keep to your little swords.”

     Her throat had begun to constrict and she stood up, abruptly. She leaned into the Countess, making no effort to conceal her agitation. 

     “My little swords have kept you and your precious daughters alive. Remember that tonight, when you’re safe in your featherbed, covered in furs.”

     Aurelia brushed past her quickly and quitted the hall, leaving Irvena behind with a smug smile slithering up her painted lips. Count Matius was left to apologize for his daughter. 

     “You will have to excuse her, Countess,” he said smoothly, standing to his feet. “As a Blade she is charged with the Emperor’s safety. And,” he chuckled, “as my daughter, she lacks refinement. Perhaps her mother would have helped her with that, if she had been alive.”

     “I take no offense,” Irvena cooed, “I’ve have been at this a very long time, a little lack of refinement isn’t enough to offend me. Watch her, Matius,” she warned, “the wolves are hungry.”

     Matius frowned, “What are you implying?” 

     Irvena sighed, “Call it a woman’s intuition, or whatever you wish. But know that I am not the only one who takes notice to certain things. Remember that.” 

     With a bow, she left him and slinked away into the crowd on onlookers, who followed her lead and quickly returned to their own conversations and cups filled with wine. Their exchange had garnered some minor attention, and Martin was now approaching him. Matius retreated to the quiet of the back of the room, huddled in a corner, when Martin found him.

     “What happened?” he asked.

     Count Matius took a swig of ale from his own cup, “What happened,” he said softly, “is that my daughter did not hold her tongue as she ought to have done.”

     Martin smirked, “She never really does.”

     “She’ll need to learn restraint.”

     “I wish you luck with that,” he chuckled. “Where is she now?”

     “I have an inkling,” Matius sighed. 

     “Well, she needs an audience with some of the men we’ve assembled over there. They have some questions about an approach strategy when the Gate opens, they need—” 

     “It may not be the best time,” Matius warned him.

     Martin paused, “We don’t really have the luxury of time.”

     With a sigh, Matius pushed himself off the wall and refilled his cup with a nearby decanter. “She never liked these kinds of parties, you know,” he murmured as he took a drink. “They made her feel unsafe. I never wanted her to have to live in her mother’s world, I knew she would be unhappy.” He laid a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Aura always went to her when she was afraid. I imagine she’s with her now.”

     “Afraid,” Martin repeated, “Afraid of what?”

     Matius’ eyes were tired. “What she’s always been afraid of,” he said, "Pain." 

 

 

 

 


	24. The Problem of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia faces a choice.

XXIV

     Aurelia stood, her back to the wind. Her mother had died almost twenty years ago, and it had taken almost twenty years for her to stand where she stood now, in front of her grave. As she tended to do, she had avoided it with great care and discretion. She laid a hand on the headstone, marked with loving words in honor of Lorelia Matius, mother and wife and beloved by all. Her mother was a good woman, with integrity and a servant’s heart. If only she could be so virtuous. But, she wasn’t.  
The Countess’ words burned, because they were true. And she knew it. Those simple truths had been the sole source of her inner contention. Jauffre had warned her of that, in his compassion. The consequences of birth and circumstance were not easily avoided. They were like the prison bars that kept her in confinement for so long, cold and very much a reality.

_________________________

     Martin observed the hall and its occupants from where he stood, in the back of the room and hidden from view. His eyes grazed over the reddened faces of fat noblemen and the wealthy ladies in furs and fine jewelry, with their tedium and their pride and he suddenly felt very alone. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and left the hall, firm and resolute in his course. Time, after all, was not afforded anyone anymore. He would need to make the most of what he was given. Now.

_________________________

     Count Matius sat on his bed, suddenly feeling very much like an old man. He rubbed his eyes and breathed slowly. He had excused himself from the dining hall, for a moment, feigning a need to relieve himself. In a way, it wasn’t a lie. He did need relief. He needed a moment to cast off the ill-will and judgement of most people in that room. Lorelia always knew how to handle it, she had schooled him in her way, guided him to be more gentle. When Aurelia was born, it softened him exceedingly. He did his best to prepare her for the world, the battles she would face. But if what he suspected was true, it was wholly untended ground. He would have little guidance to offer her. He would have little to say.

_________________________

     It was cold, but the wind had stilled. The graveyard was seated at the base of Castle Bruma, in sight of it. She could still hear the noise coming from inside its walls, escaping through the balconies and windows. But then, there was another noise. Footsteps. Leaves crushing under boots. Aurelia closed her eyes. She did not need to turn around to know who it was. She felt it, and part of her had expected it.  
     “I must be rather predictable,” she said coldly, “You always know where to find me.”

    “Not as predicable as you think. I asked your father.”

    "She turned around and wiped her face, “I don’t know why it took so long for me to come here.”

     “Maybe it was just the right time.”

     “Maybe,” Aurelia mused, her fingers grazing her mother’s name carved into the stone. “More than likely, it was my anger that kept me away. Or my cowardice.”

     “It’s natural to be afraid of pain,” Martin murmured. “Are you alright?”

     She rolled her eyes, “Fine. You may need to smooth ruffled feathers with the Countess of Skingrad, though,” she said softly, “Her family will be of value.”

     “I sincerely doubt she will remember whatever you said when all this is over.”

     “Oh, she will,” Aurelia muttered, “Her kind has a long memory.” She knelt down by her mother’s grave and slowly, but with precise movements, began to wipe the dust from its face with her sleeve.“She was a skilled healer, my mother,” she said softly, “Bruma was suffering from a fever that was ravaging its people, many years ago. So, she decided it was her duty to help them. But, I think more than that, she wanted to help them.”

     "What happened?”

     “She caught the fever herself and died. I hated her for that, for a long time.”

     “But you do not hate her now.”

     Tears welled up in Aurelia’s eyes. “No,” she said quietly.

     Martin looked at her, studying her face as he so often did. “You know,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I have never been good at dancing.”

     Aurelia stood up, “What?”

     “You and I have been dancing around this for long enough.”

     “What, my mother?”

     “No,” Martin said, pointedly, “You and I.”

     Aurelia looked at him a moment, eyes wide and lungs bereft of air, her mouth agape. Then, suddenly, she began to walk away and he stopped her.

     "Aurelia, stop.”

     She turned, her jaw flexed,“Is that a command?”

     “It might as well be. We need to talk about this.”

     “Why?”

     “What?”

     “ _Why_?”

     “Because there are things that need to be said,” Martin was incredulous.

     “There are some things better left unsaid.”

     "I disagree.”

     “Then you’re naive,” she spat and walked away from him again. This time, he grabbed her arm and held her there.

     “Aurelia, listen to me. I understand that—”

     “Let go of me—”

     “Will you stop moving, please? _For Gods’ sakes_ —”

     She ceased her struggle, but her body was stiff. She took two steps back from him.

     “I’m going to leave,” she said flatly, “and you are going to return to the hall.”

     “That’s completely nonsensical.”

     “Fine, then,” Aurelia cried, holding up her hands, “If you are taking sense, then let’s talk sense. Your father wed a woman with power and wealth—”

     "Yes—”

     “It gained resources and allies for the Empire. That made sense. This—” she gestured between them, “—cannot make sense. So don’t tell me that it does. If you wish to follow the will of the Gods, as you say, then you must act according to what benefits the Empire you have inherited. You know that! I know that!”

     “So, that’s what you condemn me to, then?” Martin shouted, gesturing to the lights in the keep behind them, the shadows of drunken people dancing along the walls, “A lifetime of endless, empty conversation and a loveless, grasping wife? I will not make the same mistakes as my father., Aurelia. I will not do it.”

     He was not wrong. It had been a lingering thought in her own mind.

     “You don’t know that it will be that way,” she countered, weakly.

     “Please,” Martin scoffed, “You know as well as I exactly the kind of woman that I would be shackled to. And, even if by some miracle, she wasn’t the climbing, eager snake-like creature that my father’s wife was, she would still be made bitter by the mere fact that her own husband would never be able to be emotionally loyal to her. She would resent me and her life.”

     “Don’t—” Aurelia choked out, shaking her head, “Don’t do this to me. Please.”

     “This isn’t just about you anymore. If you didn’t feel the same way, then it would be different. You would reject it. We would move on. I would be resigned to whatever alliance the council felt was prudent and I would accept it. But you do.”

     “You’re very certain of that,” Aurelia spat, tears streaming down her face.

     “You deny it, then?” he demanded, brow raised.

     Aurelia opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again.

     “No,” she muttered.

     “Well, then.”

     They stood parallel to each other for a moment, both breathless, both unmovable and uncompromising. Aurelia closed her eyes and swallowed, her throat so dry that it was painful.

     “Look,” Martin explained, rubbing his temple, “If the Gods design us for a plan, they know our purpose before we are born. That means that what we want, what we need, are part of that plan.” He took a step toward her. “I thought at first that my father loved my mother in spite of the Gods, but I think differently now. If they did not love one another, I would not have been born and the Mythic Dawn would have defeated us. Dagon would take Tamriel and the nightmares of my childhood would be realized. But, they did love one another. You showed me that, you shared her story. I was the product of that love. Hope remains because they chose each other.” He took one more step toward her and very gently took her hand in his. “What if,” he murmured, “what we have fought in ourselves was something that was perfectly designed?”

     Aurelia swallowed again. She was finding it difficult to breathe at all. It felt as though her lungs were collapsing. Her resolve was weakening, her understanding of sense.

     “I don’t always know for certain what I believe,” Martin comforted, “but I know what I have faith in. You may very well be the only thing I can make sense of in all of this chaos.” He put a hand under her chin and she struggled to think clearly. “And I find little reason to be afraid of what I want anymore. We may not survive all this. I won’t die with regret, and I don’t intent to live with it either.”  
Martin was dangerously close to her now.

     “What if you’re wrong,” she whimpered, her breathing still unsteady.

     He smiled and placed his hand on her cheek, “I’m prompted to think otherwise, that this is what was meant to be. But even if I am wrong, and if all of this is unplanned and chance and the Gods have nothing to offer at all, does it really matter? It’s what I want.” He laid his other hand of the uncovered side of her face, forcing her eyes to meet his. In them, she found no fear, no uncertainty. Only a calm, infinite resolve. “Now, tell me,” he asked softly. “What is it that you want?”

     She did not answer, she did not know how to answer. With an absolute certainty, she knew exactly what she wanted. But she did not know how to take it, to grab hold of what was being offered to her. Martin smiled at her, warmly, and laid her forehead against his. In silence they existed for a moment alone, in a fragile safe space they had built. She closed her eyes and the tears ceased. Breathing deeply, and slowly. He wiped her cheek with his thumb.

     “He’s over here!” a voice called out. Aurelia’s eyes shot open, and she immediately tore herself from him as he turned to look for the source of the voice. It was a Bruma guard. He had been gone too long, and it was more than cause for alarm considering the circumstances that surrounded them all. He looked at her, at the space now ever-widening between them.

     “You need to go back,” she said quietly, and left him alone. He turned toward the guard, and made his way back to the keep.

_________________________

     When Matius returned to the dinner, he entered through the same hallway in which the guard was approaching with Martin, who looked uncharacteristically distraught. When their eyes met, Matius knew immediately what needed to be done.

________________________

     “You’ll not need a saddle then, m’lady?”

     “No,” Aurelia shook her head, “and I’m not a lady.”

     The stableboy blinked rapidly and then nodded, “I will fetch him for you, then. The white one.”

     “Yes. The white one.”

     Aurelia left the boy and began to walk toward Castle Bruma. She would need to change and gather supplies as quickly as possible. When she started down the pathway, a shape she knew well intercepted her.

     “You did always run away from things,” he father mused. She brushed past him.

     “I’m not running away. I need to get to Sanguine’s Shrine, we need a Daedric artifact.”

     “Of course, and this exact moment is clearly the most appropriate time for that.”

     “There’s no more need of me here, its a perfect time.”

     “I was wrong, then” Matius said, “You’re not like your mother after all.”

     Aurelia stopped, and turned slowly.

     “Excuse me?”

     Her father crossed his arms, “She was given a choice, it frightened her because of what she stood to lose. But, she faced it with conviction and bore the consequences.”

     “And what choice was that?” Aurelia snapped.

     "Marrying me.”

     Aurelia, suddenly struck dumb, did not speak.

     “I was a guardsman, without prospect or family. Your mother was highborn and from influence and privilege. In fact, she was already understood as another man’s entirely. It was made very clear by her father that she if she decided to marry me, that she would not be considered as part of the family anymore. Any wealth or security she had within the safety of her own circle would be gone. As far as high society went, she would now be seen as lesser. If I died in battle or in war, there would be no one to to take her in.”

     “I didn’t know that,” Aurelia said, “I thought—I don’t—not once did she speak poorly of her family? Your wedding was here!”

     "Yes, our wedding was here. Her father did her that service, despite his feelings. He loved her. But it was a very private wedding, and we left Bruma immediately following it. We had nothing, really. There was very little about our marriage that made sense, for either of us.”

     “Bruma disowned her.”

     Matius nodded, “Yes, in a sense.”

     “But, the fever—”

     “She still fought for their survival. Because it was right, and because she loved others without apology or selfishness. It killed her—” his voice broke, “—but it was what I loved so desperately about her. She loved with abandon, and was not afraid of the consequences.”

     “What are you saying, Father,” Aurelia asked weakly. Matius took her hands, and smiled, tears filling his eyes and running down his aged face.     

     “The world is burning, Aura,” he said sadly, “All we have left is those we love, for a time. When they leave us, it rips us apart. But we find a way to put ourselves back together again, in the end. I have never been more proud of any choice I have made than I am of choosing your mother. It caused me pain when I lost her. But I would make that same choice a thousand times over, knowing what would come. I never wanted that for you, the pain. But I never wanted you to be so afraid of it.”

     The stableboy called out behind them.

     “Your horse, m’lady!”

     Matius squeezed her hand, “I hope you stay,” he said, lovingly, and walked back toward the castle. She looked at the boy, and Eidolon beside him. The castle to the left, and the stable to her right, and her torn in pieces in between them.


	25. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia and Martin make the choice.

XXV

 

     The stone halls of Castle Bruma were silent and still, a far cry from the vivacity they held only hours before. Each guest had been ushered to the perspective quarters, some too drunk to stand on their own, others too invested in the potential that might exist in someone else’s room to care where they spent the night. They were unaware, uninterested, and uninvested in the turmoil of others at present. Their minds were fixed on more provocative events. The sounds of laughter could be heard, for a time. But after awhile, all was quiet and serene and noiseless. Wind could be heard outside the castle walls, wolves in the distance, the rushing of a nearby falls, horses in the stables outside, huddled together to keep warm. 

     Aurelia sat at the foot of her bed, her gown sitting on a nearby chair. In a nightdress, she held her knees close to her chest, wrapping pale arms around them. She had undone her hair, grateful to finally massage her scalp with her fingers, and it now washed over her shoulders in fire-like waves. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and she remained utterly unmoved. Her brows were furrowed, her expression stonelike. She did not smile. She did not make a sound. Stoic and unresponsive, she was rooted to her bedside.

 

___________________________

 

     Martin had not been able to sleep, and he assumed it would be that way for the rest of the long and invading night. His thoughts were distressing, in all forms. The path ahead would demand every part of him. His intellect, his pride, his strength, all would be tests and tried in the coming weeks. But now, he was threatened with a greater affliction. That intimacy and kinship that he had so jealously protected had been violated by what had been said. And he knew it. There was a chasm between them that could not be crossed, a chasm he created. There would be distance now, a reserved politeness and tension that he had feared most. He rubbed his tired eyes, and looked at his hands. They were shaking ever so slightly. He sighed and stood, crossing the room to the fireside. If he could not sleep, he would pray. It served him well in the past. He sat down and shifted the logs on the fire

 

___________________________

 

     Her roots still planted, Aurelia began inching forward, little by little. Flexing her fists, she stood to her feet. Pacing across the room, her hands folded and resting under her chin, she walked two paces to the right, four to the left, three more to the right, then stopped, then started again. Her breathing had become more shallow. She faced her door, unsteady in her convictions and unsure of her actions. But with a final deep inhale, she opened it. 

 

___________________________

 

     The fire had begun to die, and Martin knelt down in front of it to stoke it to life again. He felt fatigued and heavy. He stood and leaned against the wall beside the fire, his forehead resting on his arm. Then, he heard a very soft, almost imperceptible knock on the door. 

     “Come in,” he murmured, wary. 

     Aurelia slipped through and closed it behind her, her back facing him for a moment before she turned around. He stood up straighter, feeling for a moment that his heart had somehow ceased in its beat.

     “How—” he started. 

     Aurelia held up a pale hand to silence him, “Just shut up for once. Please,” she said, her voice frayed and her body tensed. He obeyed, he knew better not to, and said nothing. For that stretch of time as he stood silent, he found himself completely struck by her. The way that lightning flashed so vividly in the black depths of a bleak night and drew all your attention to it, she captured the regard of all his senses.Perhaps it was the ache that followed losing her that had so intensely compounded the violence of his feelings now. The unimpeded pain he had felt then had cauterized what already was branded inside him, establishing her as a permanent part of his heart. 

     And yet, in spite of that, there she stood. Fair, strong, and resilient. Her hair, bright even in the dim light, cascaded down her back and thick copper waves over her shoulders. Her expression was perplexing. It was not anger, but it was not eagerness either. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her blue eyes were shadowed by furrowed brows. As he studied it, her features shifted between worry and something else he could not quite place. Something warmer, something full of deep feeling. Something tender and benevolent. 

     “You asked me what I wanted,” she began, all traces of tension melting into that warm expression. “That’s never been a question I could truthfully answer.” She crossed her arms, and spoke almost to herself. “All I ever knew was what I _didn’t_ want. I didn’t want my father’s mantle, I didn’t want to disappoint my mother. It was what I didn’t want that defined my life. It’s so much harder to _want_ something, because then you risk losing it.” She paused. “Perhaps there is some divine plan. Perhaps not. I can’t concede to either possibility with any certainty,” she sighed. “But—“ she stopped, shaking her head, “I just don’t think I _care_ anymore.” She walked toward him and, with some reservation, took his hands in hers. “I know what I want.” Her eyes met his and the reservation that was there before was gone. She was entirely yielding, and unguarded. She brought a hand up to his face and smiled, without reservation. “I _know_ what I want.”

     Martin did not move. He stood perfectly still, transfixed and paralyzed. 

     He studied her, deciphering her words, and he saw in her eyes that she meant it. There was a passion that was not permitted to burn before that now was ignited. With her face so close to his, he seized upon the opportunity that had been afforded him and kissed her with an urgency she did not expect. She kissed him back, all the months of repression and the ever lingering fear of her own feelings fueling her lips. His hands were wrapped in her hair and she felt a heat between them that was entirely new. It was not the first time she had known a man, she had known them before. And, considering his past, she gathered she was not the only woman he would have held so closely and kissed so severely. But, they both knew this was different. This was significant to them both. 

     Breathlessly, he moved his lips from her own to her face, her jaw, her neck. Her heart was beating so intensely in her chest that it seemed to reverberate across her whole being. Martin wrapped his arms around her waist and continued his path. She gripped his face and brought him close to her again, kissing him more deeply than before. Their actions in tandem brought them to the bare floor, golden with firelight. Martin moved himself on top of her, never once breaking contact. She felt the weight of his body on top of hers and she reminded herself to measure every moment and remember it when the nights grew long and cold and lonely. She bent her leg and wrapped it around his and brought his form closer to hers, as close as could be accomplished with human bodies. 

     Martin, with one hand still holding her face to his, ran his fingers along the skin of her leg, softly at first and then more severely. After a moment, he gripped her thigh with a strength that would likely bruise her and removed her lips from his.

     “Wait,” he gasped, his voice hoarse, stopping her as she tried to kiss him again. 

     “What?”

     “I—“ Martin closed his eyes, calming himself, “I don’t want to rush this.”

     “Okay,” she said breathlessly, nodding, moving herself from under him, until he pulled her back with a start. 

     “What are you doing?” he demanded, fixing her to her previous position under him.

     “You—You said you didn’t want to rush this,” she explained, slowly. 

     “Right,” Martin scoffed, “I meant the thing itself. If you think I could let you go now then you _immensely_ overestimate my self control.” 

     “I see,” Aurellia smirked. 

     He traced her lips with his thumb, and shook his head, “It’s unfathomable.”

     “What is?”

     “That in all the chaos, here you are. Entirely pure and without destruction.”

     She snorted, “Pure would not be the word I would use, but go on.”

     “Perhaps not,” he chuckled, “but it’s the word that comes to mind. My life since Kvatch has been filled with fear, and burdened by the future. But never when I look at you. There’s nothing to fear when I look at you. Just you.”

     Aurelia smiled. “Well, then,” she said, her eyes fixed on his, “Keep your eyes on me, and I will keep my eyes on you. When everything else burns around us, we’ll at least have that.”

     With that, he kissed her again, fiercely. Her lips still on his, she removed her nightdress and gave him full access to her. She used to think that she would never know a man again, after what happened. She feared what touch would do to her, that nakedness would only bring shame and memory. But, she felt neither now. What she did feel was more akin to the joy she had known when she first started on her journey to self-discovery, so many years ago. She felt _release_. Martin must have sensed her preoccupation because he slowed and drew her in closely, his breathing ragged.

     “Do you need any—“ he started.

     “Martin,” Aurelia commanded, softly, “the only thing I need right now is for you to stop talking.” 

     With a suggestive grin, he obeyed. There was no fear in his fingers now, as they traced the lines of her body and found her womanhood, and she shivered at the sensation of pleasure that overwhelmed her entirely. His expression as she did was something she had seen before. It reminded her of the look that played on his features when he was joyfully engrossed in one of his beloved books. The thought made her smile. She gasped, and held fast to him as he entered her. And then, without regret and without doubt, they became one. 

___________________________

 

     The sun rose as it had done for thousands of years, but it was different this morning. The air felt cleaner, calmer, it seemed to enter her lungs with renewed vivacity. Aurelia sat at the open window of her own balcony, watching the glowing orb rise on the horizon, warm tea in her hands brought by a servant in the early hours of the day. She sipped it quietly and thoughtfully. There would be difficulty, she knew that. She had opened the door to a new, savage world. It would come in time. But not now. Now was for her. She would be happy, if only for this moment, and the in stolen moments to come. Despite her reservations, a smile played at the corner of her lips. 

     Her chamber door opened and closed quickly behind her. Martin was leaning against her back wall, watching her. She gave him a sideways glance. 

     “Are you going to waste away on that wall, or do you intend to join me?”

     He smirked, “I was surprised to find my bed empty this morning.”

     She lifted a pale brow, “If I am anything, I am strategic.”

     “Would being seen with me be such a bad thing?”

     She returned her gaze to the sunrise, “Don’t be stupid,” she murmured into her tea. 

     Martin sighed, “I know. You need not lecture me. I was just sorry to see you go.”

     “I’m here now,” she smiled, and held out a hand. He joined her, his fingers laced in hers. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. He stood behind her with an arm wrapped around her waste, adjoining her gaze at the rising sun.

     “I have a meeting with what we established as a War Council this morning. We’ll discuss the Great Gate,” he murmured into her hair, “When it opens, I intend to send Baurus to return the Sigil Stone.”

     She looked up at him, “Martin—”

     “It’s foolish to send you. We’ve little chance of success as it is.”

     “Exactly,” she said pointedly, “I am the only one who has retrieved a Stone before. I _need_ to be the one to go, its the only logical move.”

     “Well, I command that you stay.”

     “If you let your feelings for me cloud your judgement, then this was a mistake,” Aurelia unwrapped herself from his arms and walked away from the window. 

     “My _feelings_ for you?”

     “Yes.”

     “You still don’t understand, do you?” Martin scoffed, incredulous and wide-eyed.

     “Look,” Aurelia sighed, rubbing her temples, “I swore an oath. My purpose is your protection, and the protection of the realms of Tamriel.”

     “Aurelia,” Martin rebuked, “That is no longer your only purpose, and you know it.”

     “Regardless of how we feel now, things will change—”

     “This isn’t just about how we feel now _._ I _cannot_ do this without you. I don’t know _how_.”

     “I know you can’t! That’s why I said I should be the one to retrieve the Stone, I just said that!”” she cried, exasperated. 

     “I’m not talking about closing the Gates!” Martin cried, throwing his hands in the air. “Gods, you really _don’t_ understand, do you? Closing the Gates is only the _beginning_ of the war. Tamriel needs to be rebuilt, and that is not something I can do on my own. I need you. You can’t very well help me govern her if you’re dead can you, insolent woman?”

     “That’s incredibly stupid, you’ll have advisors that have far more wisdom than I could ever offer you on that score,”Aurelia rolled her eyes. 

     Martin stared at her, aghast. 

     She finally understood. 

     “Oh,” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper, “You were not asking me to advise you, were you…”

     “No,” Martin chuckled, “I was not.”

     She shook her head, words escaping her entirely, “You… you _can’t_. You’re going to need to align yourself—”

     “ _Align_ myself,” Martin repeated. He shook his head took her hands, “That is a very strange way to describe marriage. Resource will come, regardless. Everything will be fine.”

     Aurelia turned to the now risen sun, “That’s a very…. appealing—” she leaned on the window,“—and very impractical idea.” 

     Martin was grinning like an adolescent child. 

     “ _Appealing_ , you say.”

     She rolled her eyes, “Yes. It’s appealing.”

     “We should celebrate,” he smirked, “I asked you something, you answered it, and we didn’t have an argument about it.”

     “You didn’t ask me a question, you made an observation,” Aurelia murmured, a smile brightening her features, “and I confirmed that observation, but now we’re arguing about it. So once again, you’re wrong.”

     Martin walked to where she stood and drew her in closely, kissing her forehead.“Maybe so,” he chuckled, “But regardless of all that, I want you alone. No one else will do.”

     Aurelia gave in, and settled into his arms.

     “For now,” she mused, after a moment, “I think we need to be discrete.” 

     “Yes” Martin agreed, “For now.” He lifted her face, his finger under his chin. “You know,” he said, amused, “the council won’t meet for at least an hour or so, all the guests were up late.” He tightened his grip on her.

     “Well, then,” Aurelia whispered, “I can think of several things to do with that hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally we can get to some fun stuff ;)


End file.
